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THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 


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Hollis  Hall  and  Stoughton  Hall.     Frontispiece 


THE  STORY  OF 
HARVARD 


BY 

ARTHUR   STANWOOD    PIER 


WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

VERNON   HOWE  BAILEY 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND   COMPANY 

1913 


Copyright,  79/7, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 


Published,  September,  1913 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMONDS  &  CO.,  BOSTON,  U.  8.  A. 


PREFACE 

FROM  Benjamin  Peirce's  History  of  Harvard  and 
from  President  Quincy's  History  of  Harvard  I  have 
drawn  much  of  the  material  for  the  earlier  chapters 
of  this  book.  For  that  contained  in  later  chapters 
I  acknowledge  indebtedness  particularly  to  Jo- 
siah  Quincy's  Figures  of  the  Past,  Dr.  A.  P.  Pea- 
body's  Harvard  Reminiscences,  Harvard  Memorial 
Biographies,  and  Mr.  William  Roscoe  Thayer's  ad- 
mirable History  and  Customs  of  Harvard  University. 
The  selections  from  J.  R.  Lowell's  works  are  used  by 
permission  of,  and  by  special  arrangement  with, 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  the  authorized  pub- 
lishers of  his  works.  Acknowledgment  is  also  due 
to  Harper  and  Brothers  for  extracts  from  Letters 
of  James  Russell  Lowell,  edited  by  Charles  Eliot 
Norton,  and  to  Little,  Brown,  and  Company  for 
the  extracts  from  Francis  Parkman's  letters  and 
from  Josiah  Quincy's  Figures  of  the  Past. 

A.   S.  P. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     PAST  AND  PRESENT i 

II.  THE  BEGINNING  AND  THE  FIRST  PRESIDENT  13 

III.  HARVARD  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY  26 

IV.  LEVERETT  AND  WADSWORTH         ...  44 
V.  BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION     ....  58 

VI.  THE  REVOLUTION:    HARVARD  IN  EXILE     .  77 

VII.  THE  PERIOD  OF  READJUSTMENT  ...  97 

VIII.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA     .  112 

IX.  HARVARD  UNDER  QUINCY      .        .        .        .128 

X.     ANTE  -  BELLUM  DAYS 147 

XI.     HARVARD  IN  THE  WAR 163 

XII.  PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION  .        .  197 

XIII.  UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES         .        .        .  209 

XIV.  FRESHMAN  AND  SENIOR         ....  227 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Hollis  Hall  and  Stoughton  Hall         .        .       Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

The  Johnston  West  Gate     ......  4 

Gore  Hall 18 

Germanic  Museum 34 

Harvard  Hall  .               '.        .        .                .        .  54 

The  Union        .        .        ...       '. 74 

Massachusetts  Hall 94 

University  Hall       , .no 

Holworthy  Hall      . 132 

Divinity  Hall 148 

Appleton  Chapel     .        ,~  • 164 

Memorial  Hall 178 

The  Lampoon  Office  and  the  "  Gold  Coast  "         .210 

The  Weld  Boat  House 218 

The  Stadium 224 

The  Yard  on  Class  Day 246 


THE 

STORY  OF  HARVARD 

CHAPTER  I 
i 

PAST    AND    PRESENT 

LET  us  conceive  of  a  Harvard  graduate  of 
twenty  years  ago,  now  revisiting  his  college 
for  the  first  time,  with  no  knowledge  of  the  changes 
which  it  has  undergone  since  his  day.  What  would 
be  his  impressions?  He  would  probably  feel  at 
first  as  if  he  were  seeing  a  few  old  landmarks  em- 
bedded in  a  new  setting.  The  old  Cambridge  and 
the  old  Boston  are  transformed.  Conveyed  through 
a  tunnel  from  Boston  Common  to  Harvard  Square 
in  eight  minutes,  the  returning  patriarch  emerges 
upon  a  college  yard  that  he  hardly  knows.  The 
wooden  fence  has  disappeared;  a  high  iron  fence 
and  handsome  brick  gateways  have  replaced  that 
simple  barrier,  and  exact  of  him  as  he  enters  a  sense 
of  uneasy  formality.  He  is  cheered  by  the  sight 
of  Grays  and  Boylston,  the  homely  old  familiars  of 

1 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

his  youth,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  front 
of  him;  and  when  he  passes  them  he  finds  the  build- 
ings of  the  old  quadrangle  unchanged.  But  the 
quadrangle  itself,  with  its  elms  all  lopped  to  the 
shape  of  candelabra  and  its  meager  young  red  oaks, 
has  a  bare  aspect  that  chills  his  spirits. 

The  friendly  pump,  souvenir  of  more  primitive 
days,  has  disappeared  from  in  front  of  Hollis.  A 
glimpse  through  an  open  window  in  Holworthy 
entices  him;  he  climbs  the  stairs  to  the  room  that 
he  used  to  occupy.  The  senior  who  welcomes  him 
is  hospitable  and  interested;  the  graduate  is  im- 
pressed by  the  luxury  and  comfort  of  the  quarters. 
The  pictures  and  the  furniture  suggest  to  him  that 
the  aesthetic  sense  of  the  undergraduate  is  more 
discriminating  now  than  it  used  to  be.  The  variety 
of  medals  and  "  shingles  "  upon  the  walls  convinces 
him  that  the  social  life  is  more  varied.  The  shower- 
bath  that  has  been  installed  in  what  was  once  the 
"  coal  closet "  informs  him  that  a  crude  way  of 
living  is  no  longer  tolerated.  Unwilling  to  pay 
homage  to  the  present  at  the  expense  of  the  past, 
he  remembers  with  a  manly  pride  the  tin  hat  tub 
which  it  was  his  custom  to  drag  from  under  the 
bed  every  morning.  The  room  may  have  been  of 
a  frosty  temperature,  the  water  may  have  been  icy 

2 


PAST  AND  PRESENT 

cold;  but  the  graduate  is  of  the  opinion  that  to 
squat  shivering  in  the  hat  tub  was  a  tonic  for 
virility  such  as  the  young  hedonist  who  steams  and 
streams  in  his  warm  shower  can  never  know. 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  he  laments'  the  fact 
that  the  low  wire  fences  to  protect  the  grass  plots 
have  been  removed.  In  his  day  they  afforded 
pleasant  opportunities  for  practise  in  walking  the 
tight-wire.  The  graduate  himself  acquired  pro- 
ficiency in  that  art;  he  tells  the  polite  senior  how 
once  he  made  a  wager  that  he  could  strip  himself 
naked  on  the  wire  and  then  dress  again  without 
touching  foot  to  the  ground,  and  how,  having 
chosen  an  early  morning  hour  that  would  not  expose 
him  to  public  scandal,  he  successfully  performed 
the  feat.  Something  in  the  senior's  polite  manner  of 
receiving  this  anecdote  causes  him  to  feel  that 
Harvard  men  nowadays  would  regard  such  diver- 
sions as  fit  only  to  be  practised  at  a  fresh-water 
college. 

The  graduate  fears  that  the  courteous  and  hos- 
pitable senior  is  getting  bored,  and  so  he  takes  his 
departure.  If  the  quadrangle  has  altered  in  minor 
ways,  the  yard  to  the  east  of  the  quadrangle  has 
altered  a  great  deal.  Along  Quincy  Street,  flank- 
ing Sever  on  either  side,  is  a  series  of  new  buildings. 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

The  graduate  looks  in  vain  for  Shaler's  picturesque 
old  house  —  just  as,  alas,  he  looks  in  vain  for  pictur- 
esque old  Shaler.  He  looks  in  vain  for  the  Presi- 
dent's ugly  old  house;  he  sees  instead  a  handsome 
new  mansion.  He  looks  in  vain  for  Gore  Hall,  the 
library;  it  has  been  torn  down,  to  give  place  to  a 
much  larger  and  finer  library  under  another  name. 
The  graduate  thinks  it  is  right  and  fitting  thus  to 
honor  the  memory  of  the  young  Harvard  man  for 
whom  the  building  is  given;  but  he  also  thinks 
that  it  is  rather  rough  on  old  Christopher  Gore, 
who  by  his  bequest  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
seventy  years  ago  had  become  Harvard's  most 
munificent  benefactor.  However,  the  senior  has 
informed  the  graduate  that  Christopher  Gore  is  to 
be  compensated  by  having  one  of  the  new  fresh- 
man dormitories  named  after  him. 

"  Freshman  dormitories  "  -  that  is  a  new  idea 
to  the  graduate.  The  senior  who  has  outlined  the 
scheme  to  him  has  expressed  the  skepticism  to  be 
expected  of  a  conservative  senior.  He  has  ad- 
mitted, however,  that  since  it  is  one  of  President 
Lowell's  pet  ideas,  it  may  turn  out  all  right;  he 
confesses  that  President  Lowell  has  so  far  "  made 
good."  (An  expression,  by  the  way,  that  annoys 
the  graduate  exceedingly.)  His  explanation  of  the 

4 


The  Johnston  West  Gate 


PAST  AND   PRESENT 

proposed  scheme  has  interested  the  graduate;  ap- 
parently there  are  to  be  three  or  four  dormitories 
somewhere  down  by  the  river  in  which  all  freshmen 
are  to  be  segregated;  the  rich  and  the  poor  are  to 
live  together,  eat  together,  play  together  —  if  not 
spontaneously,  why  then  by  compulsion.  The 
graduate  thinks  that  in  his  day  no  such  artificial 
spurs  to  democratic  conduct  were  required,  but  he 
concedes,  after  a  visit  to  the  Gold  Coast,  that  it  may 
be  different  now. 

The  Gold  Coast  he  finds  to  be  a  section  of  Mount 
Auburn  Street  that  has  of  late  years  been  built  up 
with  luxurious  and  high-priced  dormitories.  By  a 
fortunate  chance,  the  class  baby  of  the  graduate's 
class,  who  lives  in  Claverly  Hall,  emerges  just  as 
he  is  passing  that  building.  So  the  class  baby  takes 
the  elderly  gentleman  —  who  is  a  friend  of  his  as 
well  as  of  his  father's  —  in  charge,  pilots  him  on  a 
tour  of  these  habitations  of  the  rich,  shows  him  the 
swimming-tanks,  the  squash  courts,  offers  him  tea, 
and  has  in  several  of  the  most  civilized  young  per- 
sons imaginable  to  meet  him. 

When  the  graduate  expresses  a  desire  to  see  some 
of  the  athletic  activities,  he  is  escorted  to  Soldier's 
Field.  There  the  huge  Stadium,  looming  in  the 
midst  of  spacious  playing-grounds,  excites  his 

5 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

wonder.  Within  its  horse-shoe,  the  Varsity  foot- 
ball squad  is  practising;  outside,  on  various  grid- 
irons, the  members  of  scrub  and  class  elevens  are 
trampling  about,  busily  grinding  one  another  into 
the  earth.  With  pleasure  and  surprise  the  graduate 
notes  that  one  of  these  filthy-faced  participants  is 
the  senior  who  had  entertained  him  in  Holworthy. 
The  graduate  feels  that  young  men  who  have  warm 
shower-baths  in  their  rooms  are  likely  to  be  partic- 
ularly benefited  if  they  eat  their  peck  of  dirt  while 
still  young.  He  regrets  that  the  class  baby  does  not 
play  football.  The  graduate  invites  him  and  two 
of  his  friends  to  dine  —  wondering,  as  he  does  so, 
whether  he  ought  to  offer  them  champagne.  He  de- 
cides hastily  that  it  will  be  expected,  when  the 
class  baby  in  accepting  the  invitation  amends  it  by 
suggesting  that  they  go  after  dinner  to  see  a  show, 
and  says  that  he  will  run  them  all  in  to  Boston  in 
his  motor. 

After  appointing  the  rendezvous,  the  graduate 
strolls  off  alone  to  revisit  the  scenes  for  which  he 
has  a  particular  affection.  He  is  pleased  to  find 
that  the  Gymnasium  has  grown  to  more  than 
double  its  former  size.  With  what  lies  behind  it  he 
is  profoundly  impressed,  but  his  emotions  are  not 
wholly  those  of  pleasure.  Holmes  Field  and  Jarvis 

6 


PAST  AND  PRESENT 

Field,  those  arenas  of  athletic  triumph  or  defeat, 
in  football,  base-ball,  tennis  and  track,  have  been 
so  built  upon  as  to  be  unrecognizable.  No  vestige 
of  the  wooden  bleachers  whence  rose  the  cheers  of 
thousands  now  remains.  Old  John  the  Orangeman 
and  his  donkey  have  passed  on  —  farther  than  from 
Holmes  to  Soldier's  Field.  The  ancient  silk  hat 
garnished  with  a  crimson  bandage  no  longer  goes 
nodding  in  front  of  the  stands;  no  more  is  the 
amiable  simian  countenance  turned  upward  to  the 
customer;  none  of  the  present  college  generations 
have  heard  the  mumbled  greeting  —  "Aye,  frind; 
yis,  frind." 

The  graduate  turns  aside  and  walks  along  quiet 
streets  on  which  professors  live  in  their  modest 
houses.  They  offer  a  singular  contrast  to  the  arid 
splendors  of  the  Gold  Coast;  with  their  trees  and 
shrubbery  they  recall  the  Cambridge  that  he  knew. 
But  on  the  little  side  streets,  inhabited  no  doubt  by 
instructors  and  tutors  and  assistants,  the  houses 
seem  small  and  dingy;  the  graduate  regrets  the 
obvious  disparity  in  the  way  of  living  imposed  on 
some  officers  of  the  college  and  that  enjoyed  by 
some  of  the  undergraduates.  For  at  the  under- 
graduate time  of  life  dignity  in  externals  is  especially 
impressive;  the  young  man  accustomed  to  luxury 

7 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

is  not  likely  to  detect  worth  in  shabbiness.  The 
freshman  whose  boots  are  blacked  and  whose  fire 
is  lighted  before  he  gets  out  of  bed  will  probably  be 
more  attentive  to  a  lecturer  who  wears  dove-colored 
spats  and  a  fancy  waistcoat  than  to  one  whose 
trousers  show  horizontal  creases  and  whose  coat 
droops  from  the  shoulders.  It  is  the  opinion  of  the 
graduate  that  if  the  pay  of  all  the  lesser  officers  of 
the  university  could  be  doubled  or  tripled,  there 
would  be  a  higher  average  of  scholarship  along  the 
Gold  Coast  than  now  exists,  and  that  fewer  of 
those  who  have  put  into  its  ports  would  be  pre- 
maturely banished  to  cruis-e  the  high  seas.  But  the 
graduate's  theory  is  not  likely  to  be  tested;  possibly 
the  institution  of  freshman  dormitories  will  pro- 
duce one  of  the  results  that  he  would  like  to  see  — 
not  by  improving  the  condition  of  the  minor  officers 
of  the  college,  but  by  reducing  the  utterly  false 
notions  of  personal  dignity  that  are  now  entertained 
by  many  sons  of  multimillionaires. 

Engaged  in  these  reflections,  the  graduate  finds 
that  he  has  reached  that  sequestered  nook  of  Har- 
vard University  in  which  the  divinity  students  are 
congregated.  The  Divinity  School,  with  its  little 
chapel  and  dormitory  and  lecture  hall,  is  now  a 
quaintly  unimportant  corner  of  the  university  — 

8 


PAST  AND  PRESENT 

so  at  least  the  graduate  thinks  when  he  remembers 
that  Harvard  College  was  originally  and  primarily 
a  divinity  school. 

So  at  least  he  thinks  until  he  spies  beyond,  in 
what  used  to  be  a  section  of  Norton's  Woods,  a  very 
beautiful,  very  large,  very  imposing  and  obviously 
ecclesiastical  building  —  Norman-Gothic,  of  gray 
stone,  with  a  lofty  central  tower.  To  a  passing  post- 
man he  appeals  for  information.  "  The  Andover 
Theological  School,"  says  the  postman.  "  Now  run 
in  connection  with  the  Harvard  Divinity  School." 

An  interesting  reversion,  thinks  the  graduate  — 
for  in  1808,  the  Calvinists,  outraged  by  the  growth 
of  Unitarianism  at  Harvard,  forsook  Cambridge 
and  established  their  own  theological  school  at  An- 
dover. Just  one  hundred  years  later,  back  they 
come  and  rear  this  noble  fane  at  Harvard's  doors  — 
not  in  mocking  triumph,  but  lending  their  strength 
and  their  aid  to  what  seems  a  humble  and  shrunken 
little  school  of  divinity. 

As  the  graduate  has  now  had  enough  of  sight-see- 
ing, he  sits  down  on  the  steps  of  Divinity  Chapel 
and  lets  his  mind  dwell  upon  the  early  days  of  the 
college.  These  acres  were  then  a  jungle  of  whortle- 
berry bushes.  Much  of  Cambridge,  all  of  what  is 
now  Cambridgeport,  was  a  treeless,  marshy  waste. 

9 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

The  undergraduates  over  whom  Dunster  and 
then  Chauncy  presided  were  very  young.  They 
entered  college  at  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen  — 
already  devoted,  most  of  them,  to  the  ministry. 
Theology  was  the  subject  of  universal  interest  to 
the  community;  the  theologians  were  the  important 
and  influential  persons. 

The  graduate  musing  on  the  steps  of  Divinity 
finds  it  hard  to  visualize  and  comprehend  the  people 
of  those  days.  Their  apparent  lack  of  human  senti- 
ment, their  callousness  to  affection,  their  insensibility 
to  suffering  and  tragedy  seem  to  him  characteristic 
of  the  Chinese  rather  than  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
Even  in  the  households  which  were  as  happy  as 
Calvinistic  households  could  well  be,  the  visitations 
of  death  appear  scarcely  to  have  disturbed  the  tran- 
quillity of  those  who  survived.  The  readiness  of 
persons  and  families  to  adapt  themselves  to  bereave- 
ment and  make  the  best  of  it  strikes  the  tender- 
hearted graduate  as  amazing.  He  remembers  that 
the  conduct  of  Robert  Harvard,  father  of  John,  in 
waiting  a  year  and  a  half  after  the  death  of  his 
first  wife  before  contracting  a  second  marriage  was 
noted  as  exceptional.  Robert  Harvard's  widow, 
John  Harvard's  mother,  was  less  patient;  she 
married  John  Elletson  five  months  after  Robert 

10 


PAST  AND  PRESENT 

Harvard  died;  she  married  Richard  Yearwood  ten 
months  after  Elletson's  death.  John  Harvard's 
widow  had  been  his  widow  hardly  a  year  when  she 
married  Thomas  Allen.  The  graduate,  who  has 
dipped  somewhat  into  diaries  and  letters  of  the 
time,  has  been  struck  by  the  fact  that  the  loss 
of  children  seemed  to  cause  their  parents  only  a 
passing  pang.  The  frequent  mortality  in  Cotton 
Mather's  offspring  failed  to  detach  that  self-cen- 
tered fanatic  for  any  considerable  interval  from 
the  contemplation  of  his  own  spiritual  experiences. 
Even  so  late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
President  Stiles  of  Yale  hardly  paused  from  his 
nightly  astronomical  observations  to  be  present  at 
the  death  of  his  infant  son;  his  record  of  that  event 
would  indicate  that  he  regarded  it  as  one  of  the 
minor  incidents  of  life. 

Such  sternness  of  soul  was  perhaps  required  of 
the  men  who  were  to  build  up  New  England.  And 
though  among  the  early  presidents  of  Harvard  were 
many  gentler  spirits,  the  atmosphere  of  the  time  was 
not  favorable  to  progress  in  the  humanities.  Disci- 
pline was  severe  without  being  just,  duty  was  narrowly 
defined,  individualism  was  repressed.  Harvard  Col- 
lege had  its  beginning  in  a  period  of  reaction  towards 
medievalism  in  thought  and  monasticism  in  conduct. 

11 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Her  ideals  of  education  were  utterly  divorced  from 
those  which  had  flowered  in  the  Elizabethan  age. 
So  long  as  they  prevailed,  no  great  thinker  or  writer 
or  poet  could  issue  from  her  walls.  Not  until  she 
had  freed  herself  from  the  tyranny  of  the  theocracy 
and  embraced  with  the  ardor  of  emancipated  youth 
the  liberal  doctrines  of  the  Revolution  did  she  be- 
gin to  feel  and  to  reveal  her  powers.  From  having 
been,  as  it  were,  the  devout  watcher  by  the  corpse 
of  learning,  tending  the  lights  at  head  and  feet, 
she  has  come  forth  to  find  herself  in  the  presence 
of  the  living;  instead  of  guarding  dry  bones  and 
dust,  she  is  quickening  sensibility,  inspiring  senti- 
ment, and  stirring  imagination. 

The  graduate  has  completed  his  meditations; 
he  rises  from  the  steps  of  Divinity  and  goes  to  meet 
the  class  baby  and  his  friends. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    BEGINNING    AND    THE    FIRST    PRESIDENT 

IN  1636  the  Massachusetts  Bay  settlement  ex- 
tended for  about  thirty  miles  along  the  seacoast 
and  less  than  twenty  miles  inland.  West  and  north 
and  south  of  this  small  area  stretched  a  wilderness, 
inhabited  by  hostile  Indians.  The  people  of  the 
settlement  were  few  in  number  and  scattered. 
There  were  perhaps  five  thousand  families.  They 
had  the  Indians  to  fight  or  to  pacify,  a  living  to  get 
from  the  soil,  houses  to  build,  and  forests  to  clear. 
With  all  their  toil  and  activity,  with  all  the  need 
for  co-operation  in  facing  their  problems  and  perils, 
and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  had  exiled  them- 
selves in  a  desire  for  perfect  religious  freedom, 
they  found  both  time  and  inclination  to  engage  in 
theological  controversy  with  one  another  and  to 
view  one  another  with  bitterness  and  suspicion. 
Infant  baptism  and  the  Antinomian  theory  were 
prolific  causes  of  strife  and  dissension.  Theology 
constituted  their  only  intellectual  interest;  zealots 

13 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

and  fanatics  as  they  were,  there  was  no  unanimity 
in  their  non-conformity. 

But  by  one  sentiment  they  were  united  —  the  love 
of  learning.  Long  before  there  was  any  promise  of 
prosperity,  while  they  were  still  struggling  in  such 
poverty  as  few  other  pioneers  have  ever  known, 
they  were  contributing  freely  from  their  scanty  re- 
sources to  keep  alive  the  institution  which  remains 
to-day  the  first  and  greatest  creation  of  the  Puri- 
tans. 


In  the  autumn  of  1636,  six  years  after  the  first 
settlement  of  Boston,  the  General  Court  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  Colony  voted  to  grant  four  hundred 
pounds  for  the  founding  of  a  public  "  school  or 
college."  Two  hundred  pounds  was  to  be  paid  the 
next  year,  and  the  remainder  of  the  amount  when 
the  building  was  finished.  This  was  the  first  occa- 
sion, it  is  said,  on  which  a  community  through  its 
representatives  voted  a  sum  of  money  to  establish 
an  institution  of  learning.  Twelve  of  the  principal 
magistrates  and  ministers  of  the  colony,  among  them 
Governor  Winthrop  and  Deputy  Governor  Dudley, 
were  appointed  to  carry  through  the  project. 

They  decided  that  the  college  should  be  at  New- 

14 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  FIRST  PRESIDENT 

towne  —  "a  place  very  pleasant  and  accommodate." 
In  1638,  the  year  of  the  opening  of  the  college,  the 
name  of  this  place  was  changed  to  Cambridge, 
many  of  the  leading  men  of  the  colony  being  grad- 
uates of  the  old  English  university.  Thus,  before  the 
college  itself  had  received  a  name,  it  had  given  one 
to  the  town. 

In  1637,  John  Harvard,  a  young  non-conformist 
minister  who  had  graduated  two  years  earlier  at 
Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge,  came  over  and 
settled  in  Charlestown.  His  life  there  was  short; 
he  died  of  consumption  the  next  year.  Apparently 
the  plans  for  the  college  had  awakened  his  interest 
and  enthusiasm,  for  he  left  it  half  his  estate  — 
779  pounds,  seventeen  shillings  and  twopence  — 
and  also  his  library  of  320  volumes.  We  may  justly 
estimate  the  importance  of  this  bequest  if  we  con- 
sider that  eight  hundred  pounds  in  those  days 
would  be  equivalent  in  value  to  about  thirty  thou- 
sand dollars  now. 

John  Harvard's  unexpected  and  munificent  be- 
quest stimulated  others  to  give  freely.  A  list  of 
some  of  the  contributions  is  rather  touching;  it 
includes  such  items  as  a  number  of  sheep,  a  quantity 
of  cotton  cloth  worth  nine  shillings,  a  pewter  flagon 
worth  ten  shillings,  a  fruit  dish,  a  sugar  spoon,  a 

15 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

"  silver-tipt  "  jug,  one  "  great  salt,"  and  one  small 
"  trencher-salt." 

It  was  John  Harvard's  bequest  that  made  the 
establishment  of  the  college  secure,  and  it  was  a 
just  appreciation  of  this  fact  that  led  the  founders  to 
perpetuate  his  name.  In  March,  1639,  it  was  voted 
that  the  college  should  henceforth  be  known  as 
Harvard  College. 

Although  the  exact  site  of  the  original  college 
building  is  more  or  less  uncertain,  it  was  probably 
somewhere  within  the  limits  of  the  present  Grays 
Hall.  The  building  was  primitive  and  poorly 
constructed.  On  the  first  floor  were  the  hall,  which 
was  used  for  religious  and  literary  exercises  and  for 
"  commons,"  and  the  kitchen  and  buttery.  The 
upper  floors  were  given  over  to  chambers;  each 
chamber  had  partitioned  off  in  it  two  or  three 
studies  about  six  feet  square.  Some  of  the  cham- 
bers were  calked  and  daubed  with  clay,  others  were 
ceiled  with  cedar,  others  were  lathed,  plastered, 
and  whitened.  The  building  was  clapboarded  and 
shingled,  but  was  far  from  weatherproof;  the  win- 
dows were  more  successful  in  admitting  air  than 
light,  for  only  a  portion  of  each  sash  was  glazed, 
oiled  paper  being  used  in  the  rest.  In  cold  weather 
the  small  studies  in  the  chambers  were  frigid, 

16 


and  the  students  all  resorted  with  their  books  to 
the  hall,  where  a  fire  was  maintained  "  at  the  ex- 
pense of  those  who  used  it "  —  which  probably 
means  that  those  who  did  not  contribute  were  not 
allowed  to  have  places  near  it.  In  this  room  on 
cold  nights  the  boys  did  their  studying  by  the  light 
of  "  the  public  candle." 

The  pursuit  of  learning  under  such  conditions 
was  severe  enough;  it  was  rendered  almost  intoler- 
able by  the  character  of  the  first  master  or  professor. 
With  all  the  munificence,  devotion,  and  public  spirit 
that  attended  the  founding  of  Harvard  College, 
its  opening  was  not  auspicious.  The  Rev.  Nathaniel 
Eaton,  appointed  in  1637  the  executive  head,  was 
utterly  unfit  for  the  post  —  although  the  General 
Court  had  such  a  high  opinion  of  his  capacities 
that  they  granted  him  five  hundred  acres  of  land 
on  the  condition  of  his  remaining  permanently  with 
the  college.  He  was  both  dishonest  and  violent; 
with  the  assistance  of  his  wife,  who  acted  as  house- 
keeper and  stewardess  of  the  college,  he  cheated 
the  students,  and  with  his  own  hands  he  ill-used 
them.  Moreover,  he  did  not  confine  his  cruel  prac- 
tises to  undergraduates  alone.  He  quarreled  with 
his  usher,  Nathaniel  Briscoe,  got  two  men  to  hold 
him,  and  then  beat  him  over  the  head  and  shoulders 

17 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

with  a  club.  Briscoe,  thinking  that  he  was  to  be 
murdered,  began  to  pray,  whereupon  Eaton  gave 
him  some  extra  blows  for  taking  the  name  of  God  in 
vain.  The  General  Court,  which  had  hitherto 
thought  so  highly  of  the  master,  dismissed  him  from 
office,  fined  him  sixty-six  pounds,  and  ordered  him 
to  pay  Briscoe  thirty  pounds.  An  examination  into 
the  complaints  made  by  the  students  followed; 
Eaton's  wife  made  an  abject  and  curious  con- 
fession, admitting,  among  other  things,  that  she 
had  let  the  negro  servitor  sleep  in  John  Wilson's 
bed.  For  this  and  other  offenses  she  was  severely 
censured;  and  then  she  and  her  husband,  having 
been  excommunicated  by  the  church,  took  their 
departure  from  the  colony.  They  went  to  Vir- 
ginia and  then  to  England,  where  Eaton  showed 
no  improvement  in  either  character  or  temper. 
After  the  restoration  of  Charles  II,  he  conformed  to 
the  Church  of  England,  obtained  a  living,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  persecute  his  former  brethren  with  zeal 
and  vindictiveness.  In  spite  of  his  time-serving 
propensity  he  did  not  prosper;  he  was  finally  com- 
mitted to  prison  for  debt,  and  there  ended  his 
days. 

This  lamentable  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  first 
executive  did  not  discourage  faith  in  the  new  insti- 

18 


Gore  Hall 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  FIRST  PRESIDENT 

tution.  People  continued  to  make  gifts  to  it,  and 
in  1640  the  General  Court  granted  the  college  the 
revenue  of  the  ferry  between  Charlestown  and  Bos- 
ton, amounting  to  about  sixty  pounds  a  year.  The 
first  printing-press  north  of  Mexico,  and  for  many 
years  .  the  only  one  in  British  America,  was  set  up 
at  the  college;  the  first  work  from  the  American 
press  was  the  "  Freeman's  Oath,"  issued  in  1639. 
No  one  was  appointed  to  succeed  Eaton  until 
August  27,  1640,  when  the  Rev.  Henry  Dunster, 
who  had  recently  arrived  from  England,  was  elected 
president  under  that  title.  He  had  come  over  from 
Lancashire  at  the  age  of  thirty-six  with  his  wife  and 
children  to  escape  persecution  for  non-conformity. 
There  is  much  that  is  wistful  and  appealing  in  the 
life  of  the  young,  light-haired  first  president.  Ar- 
dent and  enthusiastic,  an  idealist  who  knew  no  com- 
promises, generous  of  nature,  tolerant  of  others  but 
inflexible  towards  himself,  Henry  Dunster  was  the 
truest  type  of  man  to  govern  the  destinies  of  a  col- 
lege. He  impoverished  himself  and  wore  himself 
out  in  the  service  of  Harvard.  Poor  man  though 
he  was,  he  gave  the  college  a  hundred  acres  of 
land  and  contributed  the  greater  part  of  the  funds 
for  building  a  house  for  the  president;  he  secured 
liberal  donations,  besought  the  General  Court  for 

19 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

appropriations  for  improvements,  and  was  himself 
teacher,  preacher,  and  administrator.  His  salary 
was  small  and  variable.  In  a  letter  to  Governor 
Winthrop  in  1643  he  referred  with  resignation  to 
"  abatements  that  I  have  suffered,  from  60  pounds 
to  50  pounds,  from  50  pounds  to  45  pounds,  and  from 
45  pounds  to  30  pounds,  which  is  now  my  rent  from 
the  ferry.  I  was  and  am  willing,  considering  the 
poverty  of  the  country,  to  descend  to  the  lowest 
step,  if  there  can  be  nothing  comfortably  allowed." 
Although  his  own  living  was  so  precarious,  Dunster 
was  quite  successful  in  collecting  money  for  the 
college;  during  his  term  as  president,  the  donations 
amounted  to  at  least  one  thousand  pounds,  besides 
annuities  and  grants  of  land. 

Unfortunately  doubts  as  to  the  validity  of  infant 
baptism  overtook  him  and  so  preyed  upon  his  mind 
that  at  last  he  felt  compelled  to  give  them  utter- 
ance; in  the  opinion  of  the  influential  persons  of  the 
community,  this  heresy  terminated  his  usefulness. 
Cotton  Mather  wrote  with  sanctimonious  regret 
that  "  he  fell  into  the  briers  of  Antipsedobaptism." 
Another  devout  person  declared  that  "  scruples  and 
suggestions  had  been  injected  into  him  by  Mr. 
Dunster's  discourses,"  that  he  no  longer  dared 
trust  himself  within  reach  of  their  "  venom  and 

20 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  FIRST  PRESIDENT 

poison,"  and  that  it  was  "  not  hard  to  discern  that 
they  came  from  the  Evil  One." 

So  in  October,  1654,  after  fourteen  years  of  un- 
selfish and  devoted  service,  Dunster  was  compelled 
to  resign  from  the  college.  In  November  he  sub- 
mitted to  the  General  Court  "  Considerations  " 
which  might  induce  them  to  let  him  remain  a  little 
longer  in  the  president's  house;  they  have  a  curious 
simplicity  and  pathos. 

"  I.  The  time  of  the  year  is  unseasonable,  being 
now  very  near  the  shortest  day  and  the  depth  of 
winter. 

"  2.  The  place  unto  which  I  go  is  unknown  to  me 
and  my  family,  and  the  ways  and  means  of  sub- 
sistence to  one  of  my  talents  and  parts,  or  for  the 
containing  or  conserving  of  my  goods,  or  disposing 
of  my  cattle,  accustomed  to  my  place  of  residence. 

"  3.  The  place  from  which  I  go  hath  fire,  fuel, 
and  all  provisions  for  man  and  beast  laid  in  for  the 
winter.  To  remove  some  things  will  be  to  destroy 
them;  to  remove  others,  as  books  and  household 
goods,  to  damage  them  greatly.  The  house  I  have 
builded,  upon  very  damageful  conditions  to  myself, 
out  of  love  for  the  college.  .  .  . 

"  4.  The  persons,  all  besides  myself,  are  women 
and  children.  .  .  .  My  wife  is  sick,  and  my  youngest 

21 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

child  entirely  so,  and  hath  been  for  months,  so 
that  we  dare  not  carry  him  out  of  doors." 

The  General  Court  was  sufficiently  touched  to 
let  him  remain  until  March  —  not  a  much  more 
seasonable  time  for  moving  in  those  days.  The  reader 
of  this  homeless  and  penniless  man's  appeal  may 
reflect  somewhat  ironically  upon  the  luxurious  dor- 
mitory at  Harvard  which  bears  Dunster's  name. 

The  deposed  president  went  to  Scituate  and  be- 
came minister  of  the  church  there;  his  financial 
condition  was  still  so  straitened  that  the  Corpora- 
tion of  Harvard  College,  which  had  recognized 
the  value  of  his  services  even  while  finding  it  neces- 
sary to  ask  for  his  resignation,  appealed  to  the 
General  Court  to  settle  one  hundred  pounds  on  him 
to  compensate  him  for  losses  that  he  had  sustained. 
The  General  Court,  however,  neither  felt  under  any 
obligation  to  do  this  nor  was  disposed  to  be  gener- 
ous. Four  years  after  leaving  Cambridge,  Dunster 
died  in  poverty. 

There  were  nine  members  of  the  first  class  that 
graduated  from  Harvard  College  —  the  class  of 
1642.  Most  of  them  became  ministers.  Benjamin 
Woodbridge,  the  first  scholar  of  the  class,  returned 
to  England  and  might  have  been  Canon  of  Windsor 
if  he  had  been  willing  to  conform  to  the  Church  of 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  FIRST  PRESIDENT 

England,  but  he  would  not.  John  Bulkley,  son 
of  the  first  minister  at  Concord,  also  went  to  England. 
He,  too,  became  a  minister,  but  was  ejected  from  his 
parish  in  1662.  He  then  took  up  the  practise  of 
medicine  in  London  —  with  considerable  success. 
William  Hubbard  became  minister  at  Ipswich, 
John  Wilson  at  Medfield,  and  Nathaniel  Brewster 
on  Long  Island.  Samuel  Bellingham  and  Henry 
Saltonstall  took  degrees  in  medicine  in  Europe. 
Of  Tobias  Barnard  nothing  is  recorded. 

By  far  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque 
member  of  the  class  was  George  Downing  —  though 
he  was  not  a  man  of  whom  the  college  can  be  proud. 
The  ministry  had  no  attractions  for  him;  he  entered 
the  English  Army  and  was  scout-master  general  in 
Scotland.  Afterwards  he  was  in  high  favor  with 
Crom-well,  but  with  the  Restoration  he  became  a 
turncoat,  had  the  merit  of  betraying  several  of  the 
regicides,  and  was  knighted  in  consequence.  For 
this  he  was  made  a  byword  in  New  England;  any 
man  who  betrayed  his  trust  was  spoken  of  as  "  an 
arrant  George  Downing."  Samuel  Pepys  in  his 
diary,  March  12,  1662,  wrote: 

"  This  morning  we  have  news  that  Sir  G.  Down- 
ing —  like  a  perfidious  rogue,  though  the  action  is 
good  and  of  service  to  the  King,  yet  he  cannot  with 

23 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

a  good  conscience  do  it,  —  hath  taken  Okey,  Corbet, 
and  Barkstead  at  Delft  in  Holland,  and  sent  them 
home  in  the  Blackmore"  Five  days  later,  mention- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  prisoners,  Pepys  has  this 
passage:  "The  captain  tells  me,  the  Dutch  were  a 
good  while  before  they  could  be  persuaded  to  let 
them  go,  they  being  taken  prisoners  in  their  land. 
But  Sir  G.  Downing  would  not  be  answered  so, 
though  all  the  world  takes  notice  of  him  for  a  most 
ungrateful  villain  for  his  pains." 

Pepys,  however,  had  always  a  warm  feeling  for 
success;  and  it  was  characteristic  of  him  that  in 
five  years  he  should  be  writing: 

"  The  new  commissioners  of  the  treasury  have 
chosen  Sir  G.  Downing  for  their  secretary;  and  I 
think  in  my  conscience  they  have  done  a  great 
thing  in  it;  for  he  is  active  and  a  man  of  business, 
and  values  himself  upon  having  things  do  well  under 
his  hand;  so  that  I  am  mightily  pleased  in  their 
choice." 

And  again:  "  Met  with  Sir  G.  Downing,  and 
walked  with  him  an  hour,  talking  of  business  and 
how  the  late  war  was  managed,  there  being  nobody 
to  take  care  of  it,  and  he  telling,  when  he  was  in 
Holland,  what  he  offered  the  King  to  do  if  he  might 
have  power,  and  then,  upon  the  least  word,  per- 

24 


THE  BEGINNING  AND  FIRST  PRESIDENT 

haps  of  a  woman,  to  the  King,  he  was  contradicted 
again,  and  particularly  to  the  loss  of  all  that  we  lost 
in  Guinea.  He  told  me  that  he  had  so  good  spies 
that  he  hath  had  the  keys  taken  out  of  De  Witt's 
pocket  when  he  was  abed,  and  his  closet  opened  and 
papers  brought  to  him  and  left  in  his  hands  for  an 
hour,  and  carried  back  and  laid  in  the  place  again, 
and  the  keys  put  into  his  pocket  again.  He  says 
he  hath  always  had  their  most  private  debates,  that 
have  been  but  between  two  or  three  of  the  chief 
of  them,  brought  to  him  in  an  hour  after,  and  an 
hour  after  that  hath  sent  word  thereof  to  the  King." 
Whether  or  not  Harvard  derived  any  benefit  in 
England  through  the  influential  offices  of  this  ras- 
cally earliest  graduate  does  not  appear.  It  is  at 
least  to  be  remembered  to  his  credit  that  forty 
years  after  his  graduation  he  contributed  a  sub- 
stantial sum  of  money  to  the  building  of  the  old  Har- 
vard Hall;  he  must  have  had  some  feeling  of  affec- 
tion for  his  needy  young  Alma  Mater. 


CHAPTER  III 

HARVARD  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

SEVEN  years  after  its  founding,  Harvard  Col- 
lege adopted  the  seal  and  coat  of  arms  which  it 
now  bears  —  three  books  spread  open  upon  a  shield 
and  displaying  the  word  Veritas.  In  1650  the  col- 
lege became  by  act  of  the  General  Court  a  corpora- 
tion, consisting  of  a  president,  five  fellows,  and  a 
treasurer;  in  them  all  the  property  of  the  institu- 
tion was  to  be  vested,  and  by  them,  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  overseers,  its  affairs  were  to  be  directed. 
This  charter  of  1650  is  still  the  basis  of  the  legal 
existence  and  organization  of  the  university. 

The  requirements  for  admission  at  this  time  seem 
at  first  glance  to  have  been  severely  classical. 
"  When  any  scholar  is  able  to  understand  Tully 
or  such  like  classical  Latine  author  extempore, 
and  make  and  speake  true  Latine  in  verse  and  prose, 
suo  ut  aiunt  Marte,  and  decline  perfectly  the  para- 
digms of  nounes  and  verbes  in  the  Greek  tongue; 
Let  him  then,  and  not  before,  be  capable  of  admis- 

26 


THE  FIRST  BOOK  TO  TELL  THE  LIFE  STORY 
OF  THE  FOUNDER  OF  HARVARD  COLLEGE 


JOHN  HARVARD 

AND   HIS   TIMES 

By  HENRY  C.  SHELLEY 

Author   of  "Literary   By-Paths   in   Old   England,"   "Untrodden   English 
"Ways,"  "  The  Tragedy  of  Mary  Stuart,"  etc. 

With  24  full-page  illustrations.  NEW  POPULAR  EDITION.    1913 
331  pages.  Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  in  box,  $1 .50  net;  by  mail,  $1.66 


HIGHLY  praised  by  the  critics 
and  cordially  endorsed  by 
Harvard  graduates  when  it 
originally  appeared  a  few  years  ago 
Mr.  Shelley's  painstaking  and  schol- 
arly book  on  John  Harvard  has  just 
been  reissued  in  a  new  edition,  hand- 
somely bound  and  with  all  the  illus- 
trations that  appeared  in  the  first 
edition.  Mr.  Shelley  brought  to 
light  a  great  deal  of  valuable  material  regarding  John 
Harvard's  parents  and  companions,  his  life  in  South- 
wark  where  he  was  born,  and  at  Emmanuel  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  was  educated.  All  the  avail- 
able information  regarding  the  young  English  minister's 
life  in  America  and  the  founding  of  Harvard  College, 
together  with  a  fresh  and  vigorous  picture  of  Joha 
Harvard  s  environment  is  included  in  this  book. 


William  C.  Lane,  Librarian  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, says  : 

"  Mr.  Shelley  has  certainly  brought  together  a  large  amount 
of  interesting  matter." 


From  The  Nation : 

"  An  interesting  and  excellent  volume.  .  .  .  We  cordially 
admit  Mr.  Shelley's  scholarship,  judgment  and  good  taste." 


From  North  American  Review : 

"  Our  most  vivid  and  plausible  picture  of  the  earliest  bene- 
factor of  education  in  this  country." 


From  Harvard  Crimson : 

"  A  worthy  attempt  to  give  definiteness  and  to  honor  a 
figure  to  whom  we  all  owe  a  grateful  reverence.  .  .  .  The  book 
is  fitly  dedicated  to  President  Eliot  and  is  abundantly  and 
admirably  illustrated." 


From  Journal  of  Education,  Boston  : 

"  A  book  of  surpassing  interest,  educationally,  historically 
and  scholastically." 


From  Harvard  Graduates  Magazine : 

"  So  far  as  facts  go  he  has  omitted  nothing.  More 
remarkable  than  his  industry,  however,  is  his  excellent  historic 
sense.  He  puts  himself  into  the  spirit  of  the  first  quarter  of  the 
seventeenth  century  in  England.  He  visualizes  its  life  in  vari- 
ous places.  The  result  is  that  he  has  produced  a  vivid  picture 
vof  John  Harvard's  environment." 


One  of  the  24  illustrations  from  "  THE  STORY  OF  JOHN  HARVARD  " 


JOHN    HARVARD 

AND    HIS    TIMES 

By  HENRY  C.  SHELLEY 

Contents :  I,  Environment ;  II,  Parentage ;  III,  Early  Influ- 
ences ;  IV,  The  Harvard  Circle ;  V,  Cambridge ;  VI,  Last 
Years  in  England;  VII,  The  New  World;  VIII,  The  Praise 
of  John  Harvard. 

The  fine  manner  in  which  the  publishers  have  brought  out 
this  interesting  book,  enriching  it  with  views,  portraits,  and  fac- 
similes, deserves  much  praise. — Harvard  Graduates  Magazine. 

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IN  THE   SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY 

sion  into  the  College."  But  although  these  require- 
ments in  Latin  sound  in  one  way  rather  formidable, 
and  although  the  students  were  expected  to  recite 
at  all  times  in  Latin,  the  college  course  was  in 
most  respects  very  elementary.  Its  primary  aim 
was  to  prepare  students  for  the  ministry.  Besides 
Latin  and  Greek,  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  and  Syriac  were 
the  prescribed  languages;  logic,  ethics,  arithmetic, 
geometry,  physics,  metaphysics,  politics,  and  di- 
vinity were  also  prescribed.  The  young  man  who 
went  forth  with  more  than  a  smattering  in  all 
these  subjects  was  no  doubt  exceptional.  Examina- 
tions were  held  frequently,  especially  before  Com- 
mencement. The  Commencement  exercises,  which 
from  the  very  beginning  were  attended  by  the 
governor  and  all  the  chief  men  of  the  colony,  con- 
sisted of  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  orations,  and 
of  disputations  upon  theses.  In  spite  of  being  dedi- 
cated to  such  forbidding  displays  of  scholarship, 
Commencement  came  to  be  often  a  time  of  disorder 
and  at  various  periods  was  made  a  subject  of  special 
legislation. 

Besides  the  frequent  examinations,  just  before 
Commencement,  there  were  held  once  a  month 
public  declamations  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  logical 
and  philosophical  disputations.  For  three  weeks 

27 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

in  June  students  who  had  been  in  the  college  two 
years  or  more  were  subjected  to  a  daily,  four-hour, 
oral  examination.  During  this  period,  visitors  were 
made  welcome  in  the  classes  and  given  the  privilege 
of  questioning  the  students.  The  learned  bores  of 
the  colony  greatly  enjoyed  this  opportunity  of  pub- 
licly harrying  the  undergraduates. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  college  there  were  no 
professors;  the  president  was  assisted  in  imparting 
instruction  by  two  or  three  graduate  students, 
"  bachelors  in  residence."  A  bachelor  in  residence 
was  called  a  Sir.  Thus,  in  1643  Sir  Bulkley  and 
Sir  Downing  were  appointed  "  for  the  present  help  of 
the  President,"  and  received  a  salary  of  four  pounds 
a  year.  Bulkley  in  1645  went  to  England  and  gave 
the  college  an  acre  of  land  covering  the  site  of  Gore 
Hall.  Samuel  Mather,  of  the  class  of  1643,  be- 
came a  Sir  and  acquired  great  popularity.  "  Such 
was  the  love  of  all  the  scholars  to  him  that  not  only 
when  he  read  his  last  Philosophy  Lecture  in  the  Col- 
lege Hall  they  heard  him  in  tears,  because  of  its 
being  his  last,  but  also  when  he  went  away  from 
the  College,  they  put  on  the  tokens  of  mourning 
in  their  very  garments  for  it."  Mitchell,  of  the 
class  of  1647,  remained  a  tutor  in  the  college  for 
several  years.  In  1650  he  married  a  young  widow 

28 


IN  THE   SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

and  ordered  from  the  college  commons  "  a  supper 
on  his  wedding  night."  It  was  he  who  perceived 
that  President  Dunster's  ideas  "  were  from  the 
Evil  One." 

Throughout  the  college  year,  tasks  or  duties  were 
assigned  for  practically  every  hour  of  the  day, 
and  the  rules  regulating  conduct  were  strict.  The 
college  laws  of  1650  forbade  the  students  to  use 
tobacco  "  unless  permitted  by  the  president  with 
the  consent  of  parents  or  guardians,  and  a  good 
reason  first  given  by  a  physician,  and  then  in  a 
sober  and  private  manner."  They  also  prohibited  the 
joining  of  any  military  band  "  unless  of  known 
gravity,  and  of  approved,  sober,  and  virtuous  conver- 
sation." 

There  were,  however,  occasional  quite  shocking 
outbreaks  on  the  part  of  individual  students.  James 
Ward,  of  the  class  of  1645,  son  of  a  clergyman, 
and  Joseph  Weld,  son  of  another  clergyman,  bur- 
glarized two  houses.  "  Being  found  out,"  writes 
Governor  Winthrop,  "  they  were  ordered  by  the 
governors  of  the  College  to  be  there  whipped,  which 
was  performed  by  the  president  himself  —  yet 
they  were  about  20  years  of  age.  .  .  .  We  had  yet 
no  particular  punishment  for  burglary." 

The  Rev.  Charles  Chauncy,  an  elderly  clergy- 

29 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

man  of  Scituate,  succeeded  President  Dunster. 
He  had  nothing  of  the  martyr  spirit  of  his  prede- 
cessor; he  was  quite  willing  to  refrain  from  press- 
ing unwelcome  views  upon  people.  So  far  from 
sharing  Dunster's  inconvenient  ideas  about  infant 
baptism,  he  went  too  enthusiastically  to  the  other 
extreme  to  please  the  community;  "  it  was  his 
judgment  not  only  to  admit  infants  to  baptism,  but 
to  wash  or  dip  them  all  over."  It  was  represented 
to  him  that  if  he  continued  to  disseminate  that 
doctrine,  he  could  not  be  made  president  of  Har- 
vard; whereupon  he  cheerfully  agreed  to  desist  from 
such  an  unwise  contention. 

His  weakness  was  of  conviction  perhaps  rather 
than  of  character;  at  any  rate  he  seems  to  have  been 
an  excellent  president.  His  administration  was 
beset  with  difficulties,  and  he  struggled  with  them 
manfully  and  on  the  whole  efficiently.  The  financial 
condition  of  the  college  was  precarious;  the  General 
Court,  to  which  Chauncy  appealed  time  and  again, 
was  not  disposed  to  make  any  liberal  grants  towards 
its  relief.  As  had  been  the  case  with  Dunster, 
Chauncy's  salary  was  paid  chiefly  in  transfers  of 
taxes;  he  had  to  collect  the  taxes  himself,  and  then, 
as  they  were  usually  paid  in  Indian  corn  or  other 
produce,  he  had  to  convert  them  into  cash,  usually 

30 


IN  THE   SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY 

losing  a  considerable  part  of  their  value  in  the 
transaction. 

The  conversion  and  education  of  the  Indians  was 
much  on  the  minds  of  the  pious  settlers.  The  press 
of  Harvard  College  was  kept  busy  turning  out 
tracts  for  their  enlightenment.  A  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel  among  them,  which  had 
its  headquarters  in  England,  was  prevailed  upon  to 
contribute  a  sum  of  money  for  a  college  building 
to  be  known  as  the  Indian  College.  This  building 
was  finished  in  1665,  but  the  aborigines  made  very 
little  use  of  it.  A  few  Indians  were  admitted  to 
Harvard,  but  only  one  ever  graduated,  and  he 
shortly  afterwards  died  of  consumption.  The  In- 
dian College  was  soon  required  for  other  purposes 
than  those  for  which  it  was  built. 

Both  it  and  the  original  building  —  the  first 
Harvard  Hall  —  were  poorly  constructed;  before 
the  end  of  Chauncy's  term  they  had  become  almost 
unfit  for  occupation.  Partly  because  of  this,  partly 
because  of  the  apathy  of  the  General  Court  towards 
the  welfare  of  the  college,  the  number  of  students 
declined,  the  total  funds  of  the  institution  amounted 
to  only  a  thousand  pounds,  and  its  future  was  dark. 
The  venerable  president  did  not  lose  heart;  he 
went  about  trying  to  awaken  interest  and  enthusiasm. 

31 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

His  efforts  were  successful;  and  soon  the  different 
towns  were  contributing  funds  to  stay  the  decline. 
The  town  of  Portsmouth  was  the  first  to  come  for- 
ward; it  pledged  sixty  pounds  a  year  for  seven  years. 
Other  places  and  people  emulated  this  public  spirit, 
and  eventually  the  subscriptions  which  came  in 
were  sufficient  for  the  building  of  a  new  Harvard 
Hall.  But  this  was  not  finished  until  1682  —  ten 
years  after  Chauncy's  death. 

President  Chauncy  set  his  students  a  good  ex- 
ample of  industry;  he  rose  every  morning  at  four 
o'clock  and  was  busily  occupied  every  day  until 
his  death,  at  the  age  of  eighty-two. 

"  The  fellows  of  the  College  once  leading  this  ven- 
erable old  man  to  preach  a  sermon  on  a  winter  day, 
they,  out  of  affection  to  him,  to  discourage  him  from 
so  difficult  an  undertaking,  told  him,  '  Sir,  you'll  cer- 
tainly die  in  the  pulpit; '  but  he,  laying  hold  on  what 
they  said  as  if  they  had  offered  him  the  greatest 
encouragement  in  the  world,  pressed  the  more  vigor- 
ously through  the  snowdrift,  and  said,  '  How  glad 
should  I  be  if  what  you  say  might  prove  true!' 

It  is  pleasant  to  find  that  the  old  gentleman  re- 
tained to  the  end  certain  youthful  prejudices  as  well 
as  pious  enthusiasms;  he  frequently  inveighed  from 
the  pulpit  against  the  enormity  of  long  hair. 

32 


IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY 

Upon  Chauncy's  death  in  1672,  the  Rev.  Leonard 
Hoar,  a  graduate  of  the  class  of  1650,  was  chosen 
president.  Although  his  administration  was  brief 
and  unsuccessful,  he  deserved  a  better  fate;  his 
writings  show  him  to  have  been  far  more  broad- 
minded  than  most  of  his  contemporaries  and  in 
many  ways  ahead  of  his  time.  He  wanted  "  a  large, 
well-sheltered  garden  and  orchard,  for  students 
addicted  to  planting;  an  ergasterium  for  mechanic 
fancies;  and  a  laboratory  chemical  for  those  phi- 
losophers that  by  their  senses  would  culture  their 
understandings.  .  .  .  For  readings  or  notions  only 
are  but  husky  provender."  He  was  endowed  with 
the  rarest  of  all  qualities  among  the  members  of 
his  race  and  generation  —  a  kindly  humor.  Thus, 
after  giving  a  scapegrace  nephew  who  was  a  freshman 
some  excellent  advice,  he  ended  his  letter  as  follows : 

"  Touching  the  other  items  about  your  studies, 
either  mind  them  or  mend  them  and  follow  better, 
so  we  shall  be  friends  and  rejoice  in  each  other;  but 
if  you  will  neither,  then,  though  I  am  no  prophet, 
yet  I  will  foretell  you  the  certain  issue  of  all,  viz., 
that  in  a  very  few  years  be  over,  with  inconceivable 
indignation  you  will  call  yourself  fool  and  caitiff,  and 
then,  when  it  is  to  no  purpose,  me,  what  I  now  sub- 
scribe myself,  your  faithful  friend  and  loving  uncle." 

33 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

One  of  such  a  temper  must  have  found  very 
distasteful  some  of  the  duties  that  his  position 
imposed  upon  him.  Samuel  Sewall's  Diary  gives 
an  interesting  glimpse  of  college  discipline. 

"June  15,  1674,  Thomas  Sargeant  was  examined 
by  the  Corporation  finally.  The  advice  of  Mr.  Dan- 
forth,  Mr.  Stoughton,  Mr.  Thacher,  Mr.  Mather 
was  taken.  This  was  his  sentence: 

"  That  being  convicted  of  speaking  blasphemous 
words  concerning  the  H.  G."  -  certainly  no  ir- 
reverence was  intended  in  the  abbreviation!  — 
"  he  should  be  therefore  publicly  whipped  before 
all  the  scholars. 

'  That  he  should  be  suspended  as  to  taking  his 
degree  of  Bachelor. 

"  Sit  alone  by  himself  in  the  Hall,  uncovered  at 
meals,  during  the  pleasure  of  the  President  and 
Fellows,  and  be  in  all  things  obedient,  doing  what 
exercise  was  appointed  him  by  the  President,  or 
else  be  finally  expelled  from  the  college. 

''  The  first  was  presently  put  in  execution  in  the 
Library  before  the  scholars.  He  kneeled  down, 
and  the  instrument,  Goodman  Hely,  attended  the 
President's  word  as  to  the  performance  of  his  part 
in  the  work.  Prayer  was  had  before  and  after  by 
the  President.  July  i,  1674." 

34 


Germanic  Museum 


IN  THE   SEVENTEENTH   CENTURY 

Corporal  punishment  was  not  uncommon  in 
those  days,  and  remained  in  force  as  late  as  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  though  it  was 
not  often  inflicted  after  1700.  Whether  President 
Hoar  resorted  to  it  too  readily  or  whether  he  gave 
the  students  other  grounds  of  resentment,  he  became 
most  unpopular  —  so  unpopular  that  after  a  couple 
of  years  the  undergraduates  left  the  college  in  a 
body.  There  is  some  reason  to  suspect  that  the 
Rev.  Urian  Oakes,  who  was  a  member  of  the  Corpo- 
ration and  had  himself  wanted  to  be  president,  had 
a  hand  in  fomenting  the  trouble.  If  this  was  the 
fact,  his  machinations  were  only  too  successful; 
Hoar  resigned  in  1675,  broken  in  health  and  spirit, 
and  did  not  long  survive  the  disgrace. 

Oakes  then  received  the  appointment  that  he 
coveted,  but  his  enjoyment  of  authority  was  also 
brief,  and  his  administration  was  colorless. 

John  Rogers,  who  bore  a  great  reputation  for 
piety,  succeeded  him,  but  only  for  a  year.  Of  his 
incumbency  the  credulous  Cotton  Mather  relates 
the  following  anecdote: 

"  It  was  his  custom  to  be  somewhat  long  in  his 
daily  prayers  with  the  scholars  in  the  College  Hall. 
But  one  day,  without  being  able  to  give  reason  of  it, 
he  was  not  so  long,  it  may  be  by  half,  as  he  used  to 

35 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

be.  Heaven  knew  the  reason.  The  scholars,  re- 
turning to  their  chambers,  found  one  of  them  on 
fire;  and  the  fire  had  proceeded  so  far  that  if  the 
devotion  had  held  three  minutes  longer,  the  College 
had  been  irrecoverably  laid  in  ashes,  which  now 
was  happily  preserved." 

In  1685  the  Rev.  Increase  Mather  became  presi- 
dent, and  Harvard  College  was  thrust  prominently 
into  politics.  Mather  was  a  many-sided  person,  of 
zeal  and  ability,  a  leader  in  the  affairs  of  the  colony, 
as  well  as  a  theologian.  He  was,  however,  self- 
seeking,  had  a  sharp  eye  always  to  his  own  advan- 
tage and  advancement,  and  stubbornly  resisted  any 
encroachment  on  what  he  chose  to  regard  as  his 
prerogatives.  He  had  also  some  of  the  superstitious, 
puling  quality  that  was  one  of  the  numerous  con- 
temptible traits  of  his  son  Cotton.  With  all  his 
defects,  he  did  on  the  whole  render  Harvard  College 
and  Massachusetts  a  considerable  service.  When 
Charles  II  had  called  on  Massachusetts  to  surrender 
its  charter,  Mather  had  been  stanch  and  outspoken 
in  opposition.  The  charter  was  not  surrendered, 
but  it  was  annulled;  first  Dudley  and  then  Andros 
governed  the  colony  so  tyrannically  that  at  last 
Mather  was  sent  to  England  to  lay  the  grievances 
of  the  people  before  the  king.  He  spent  four  years 

36 


IN  THE   SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

in  England  —  with  so  much  personal  satisfaction  and 
enjoyment  that  he  was  forever  after  laying  plans 
to  get  back  there  —  and  finally  he  obtained  a  new 
charter  for  the  colony  from  King  William.  This 
charter  was  in  most  essentials  the  negation  of  all 
that  Mather  had  been  sent  to  obtain;  it  practically 
abolished  the  power  of  the  theocracy  which  had 
hitherto  ruled  Massachusetts.  But  Mather  was 
diplomat  enough  to  see  that  it  was  the  best  that 
could  be  had,  and  to  introduce  all  the  compensations 
possible.  He  secured  the  appointment  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Phips  as  first  governor,  confident  of  his  in- 
fluence over  him.  In  fact,  when  Mather  returned 
in  1692  with  the  new  governor  and  the  new  charter, 
it  was  not  as  one  who  had  been  worsted  at  every 
point,  but  as  one  who  had  triumphed  over  obstacles 
and  was  sure  of  a  welcome. 

The  new  charter  made  freehold  and  property 
instead  of  church  membership  the  qualification  for 
electing  and  being  elected  to  office.  The  establish- 
ment of  a  religious  faith  was  no  longer  to  be  the 
end  and  aim  of  civil  government.  The  clergy  were 
shorn  of  their  temporal  power.  They  were  not 
disposed  to  be  placated  by  Mather's  representations 
that  their  loss  was  merely  nominal. 

He  remained  a  man  of  influence  in  the  community, 

37 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

but  no  doubt  the  coolness  of  those  who  had  been 
his  warm  friends  and  admirers  was  one  of  the  causes 
of  his  consuming  desire  to  return  to  England.  His 
duties  as  president  of  Harvard  did  not  afford  him 
complete  satisfaction.  The  laws  of  the  college 
required  the  president  to  expound  chapters  from 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments  to  the  students  twice 
a  day.  To  Mather,  who  chose  to  live  in  Boston, 
where  he  could  be  in  the  midst  of  political  activity 
and  theological  controversy,  and  who  steadfastly 
refused  to  heed  the  recommendations  of  the  General 
Court  and  take  up  his  residence  at  the  college,  this 
duty  was  extremely  irksome  —  so  irksome  that 
he  quite  consistently  neglected  it.  Aside  from  the 
inconvenience  of  fulfilling  it,  it  seemed  to  him  a 
degradation  of  his  talents  and  scholarship.  In  a 
letter  to  William  Stoughton,  who  succeeded  Phips 
as  governor,  he  refers  contemptuously  to  the  under- 
graduates as  "  forty  or  fifty  children,  few  of  them 
capable  of  edification  by  such  exercises." 

With  the  granting  of  a  new  charter  to  the  colony, 
a  new  charter  for  Harvard  College  seemed  to  be 
required.  That  granted  by  the  General  Court  in 
1692  was  disallowed  by  the  king,  for  the  reason  that 
it  did  not  provide  for  the  right  of  visitation  by  the 
Crown  or  the  Crown's  representatives.  Mather 

38 


IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

immediately  cherished  hopes  of  being  sent  to  Eng- 
land to  adjust  the  difficulty  about  the  college  charter. 
He  made  public  from  time  to  time  the  fact  that  he 
was  receiving  intimations  and  assurances  from  on 
high  of  a  great  work  that  he  had  to  do  in  England. 
His  diary  teems  with  such  passages  as  the  follow- 
ing: 

"  Sept.  3,  1693.  .  .  .  Also  saying  to  the  Lord  that 
some  workings  of  his  Providence  seemed  to  inti- 
mate that  I  must  be  returned  to  England  again 
and  saying,  *  Lord,  if  it  will  be  more  to  your  glory 
that  I  should  go  to  England  than  for  me  to  con- 
tinue here  in  this  land,  then  let  me  go;  otherwise 
not/  I  was  inexpressibly  melted,  and  that  for  a 
considerable  time,  and  a  stirring  suggestion,  that 
to  England  I  must  go.  In  this  there  was  something 
extraordinary,  either  divine  or  angelical." 

"  Oct.  29th.  I  was  much  melted  with  the  appre- 
hension of  returning  to  England  again;  strongly 
persuaded  it  would  be  so;  and  that  God  was  about 
to  do  some  great  thing  there,  so  that  I  should  have 
a  great  opportunity  again  to  do  service  to  his  name.'* 

"  Dec.  3Oth.  Meltings  before  the  Lord  this  day 
when  praying,  desiring  being  returned  to  England 
again." 

"  April  I9th,  1694.     My  heart  was  marvellously 

39 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

melted  with  the  persuasion  that  I  should  glorify 
Christ  in  England." 

With  all  these  meltings  and  with  all  Mather's 
active  scheming  to  bring  about  such  a  divine  end, 
he  did  not  convince  the  General  Court  of  the 
necessity  for  the  mission.  Cotton  Mather,  most 
officious  of  busybodies,  seconded  his  father's  efforts, 
but  to  no  purpose.  In  1697  the  General  Court 
granted  another  charter,  which  was  no  more  ac- 
ceptable to  President  Mather  than  the  one  of  1692 
had  been  to  the  king.  More  than  ever  did  it  seem 
to  him  desirable  that  he  should  be  sent  to  England 
to  obtain  a  royal  charter  for  the  college.  If  he  could 
accomplish  that,  he  could  remain  in  England  the 
rest  of  his  life,  and  his  son  Cotton  could  no  doubt 
succeed  him  in  the  presidency. 

The  General  Court  grew  weary  of  his  importunity. 
April  1 6th,  1700,  Cotton  Mather  wrote  in  his  diary: 

"  I  am  going  to  relate  one  of  the  most  astonishing 
things  that  ever  befell  in  all  the  time  of  my  pilgrim- 
age. 

"  A  particular  faith  had  been  unaccountably  pro- 
duced in  my  father's  heart,  and  in  my  own,  that 
God  will  carry  him  unto  England,  and  there  give 
him  a  short  but  great  opportunity  to  glorify  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  before  his  entrance  into  the  heav- 

40 


IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

enly  Kingdom.  There  appears  no  probability  of  my 
father's  going  thither  but  in  an  agency  to  obtain  a 
charter  for  the  College.  This  matter  having  been 
for  several  years  upon  the  point  of  being  carried  in 
the  General  Assembly,  hath  strangely  miscarried 
when  it  hath  come  to  the  birth.  It  is  now  again 
before  the  Assembly,  in  circumstances  wherein  if 
it  succeed  not,  it  is  never  like  to  be  revived  and  re- 
sumed any  more.  .  .  .  Now  all  on  a  sudden  I  felt 
an  inexpressible  force  to  fall  on  my  mind,  an  afflatus, 
which  cannot  be  described  in  words;  none  knows 
it  but  he  that  has  it.  ...  It  was  told  me  that  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  loved  my  father  and  loved  me, 
and  that  he  took  delight  in  us,  as  in  two  of  his  faith- 
ful servants,  and  that  he  had  not  permitted  us  to  be 
deceived  in  our  particular  faith,  but  that  my  father 
should  be  carried  into  England,  and  there  glorify 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  before  his  passing  into  glory. 

"  And  now  what  shall  I  say!  When  the  affair  of 
my  father's  agency  after  this  came  to  a  turning 
point  in  the  Court,  it  strangely  miscarried!  All 
came  to  nothing!  Some  of  the  Tories  had  so  wrought 
upon  the  Governor  that,  though  he  had  first  moved 
this  matter  and  had  given  us  both  directions  and 
promises  about  it,  yet  he  now  (not  without  base 

41 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

unhandsomeness)  deferred  it.  The  Lieutenant 
Governor,  who  had  formerly  been  for  it,  now  (not 
without  great  ebullition  of  unaccountable  preju- 
dice and  ingratitude)  appeared,  with  all  the  little 
tricks  imaginable,  to  confound  it.  It  had  for  all 
this  been  carried,  had  not  some  of  the  Council  been 
inconveniently  called  off  and  absent.  But  now  the 
whole  affair  of  the  College  was  left  unto  the  man- 
agement of  the  Earl  of  Bellamont,  so  that  all  ex- 
pectation of  a  voyage  for  my  father  unto  England, 
on  any  such  occasion,  is  utterly  at  an  end. 

"  What  shall  I  make  of  this  wonderful  matter? 
Wait!  Wait!" 

But  waiting  did  not  give  the  pious  son  any  fresh 
inspiration.  He  never  saw  anything  but  "  base 
unhandsomeness,"  u  unaccountable  prejudice,"  and 
"  ingratitude  "  in  the  motives  of  those  who  denied 
his  father  the  coveted  trip  to  England.  And  al- 
though he  was  himself  a  member  of  the  Corporation 
of  Harvard  College,  from  this  time  on  his  affection 
for  the  institution  was  at  best  intermittent  and 
fluctuated  with  his  prospects  of  being  chosen  presi- 
dent. 

The  college  was  prospering;  one  event  that  made 
Increase  Mather's  administration  notable  was  the 
gift  by  William  Stoughton,  lieutenant-governor  and 

42 


IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY 

chief  justice,  of  a  brick  building,  which  stood  for 
about  eighty  years.  This  was  the  first  Stoughton 
Hall.  Stoughton,  the  "  hanging  judge "  of  the 
witchcraft  trials,  must  always  remain  a  dark  and 
sinister  figure.  Few  episodes  in  New  England  annals 
are  more  dramatic  than  that  when  Samuel  Sewall 
rose  and  stood  in  his  pew  in  the  Old  South  Meeting- 
house while  his  confession  of  sorrow  for  the  part 
he  had  taken  in  those  monstrous  and  insane  cruel- 
ties was  read  from  the  pulpit.  But  Stoughton,  who 
with  Cotton  Mather  had  been  the  most  relentless 
persecutor,  sat  grim  and  silent.  He  had  nothing  to 
confess,  for  he  regretted  nothing.  But  he  was  all 
through  his  life  a  good  friend  of  Harvard  College. 


43 


CHAPTER  IV 

LEVERETT   AND    WADSWORTH 

IN  1701,  since  Increase  Mather  obstinately  re- 
fused to  take  up  his  residence  at  the  college  and 
perform  the  duties  of  president  in  accordance  with 
the  General  Court's  conception  of  them,  the  legis- 
lature lost  patience  and  requested  his  resignation. 
He  gave  it,  not  unwillingly;  he  saw  now  that  the 
mission  to  England  would  never  come  to  pass,  he 
found  administrative  labors  uncongenial,  and  he 
had  hopes  that  his  son  would  be  appointed  to  suc- 
ceed him.  But  the  Mathers,  though  eminent,  were 
not  too  popular;  to  the  Calvinistic  party,  which  had 
hitherto  been  in  power,  a  strong  opposition  was 
developing;  and  the  General  Court,  unwilling  to 
make  Cotton  Mather  president  and  yet  not  quite 
ready  to  assume  his  enmity,  temporized.  Instead 
of  appointing  a  president,  the  General  Court  asked 
the  Rev.  Samuel  Willard,  one  of  the  Corporation, 
to  take  charge  as  vice-president.  He  served  under 
this  title  for  six  years,  during  which  period  Cotton 
Mather  exhibited  considerable  restlessness. 

44 


LEVERETT  AND   WADSWORTH 

The  revolt  against  Calvinistic  authority  acquired 
greater  strength,  and  in  1707  John  Leverett,  a  lay- 
man, was  chosen  president  of  Harvard  College. 
He  had  been  a  tutor  in  the  college,  and  his  liberal 
views  were  extremely  obnoxious  to  the  Mathers. 
Both  Cotton  Mather  and  his  father  assailed  Gov- 
ernor Dudley  violently  for  putting  Leverett  forward; 
Dudley  bore  their  abuse  with  creditable  dignity  and 
good  temper.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  resentment, 
Cotton  Mather,  though  remaining  a  member  of  the 
Corporation,  tried  in  various  petty  ways  to  thwart 
the  plans  for  the  college  and  to  divert  donations 
intended  for  Harvard  to  Yale  College,  which  had 
recently  been  founded.  In  Yale  he  saw  an  institu- 
tion that  promised  more  rigid  adherence  to  orthodox 
Calvinism;  he  expressed  a  devout  dread  lest  "  the 
dear  infant  should  be  strangled  in  the  birth." 

Leverett  was  an  excellent  president  —  able,  act- 
ive, and  broad-minded.  Under  his  administration 
the  college  became  a  place  where  a  liberal  education 
might  be  secured.  Hitherto,  it  had  been  primarily 
a  divinity  school;  more  than  half  its  graduates  were 
clergymen;  its  teachings  were  deeply  tinged  with 
the  dark  theology  of  the  time.  Now  the  number  of 
tutors  was  increased  and  the  importance  of  studies 
other  than  those  bearing  directly  upon  a  theological 

45 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

education  was  recognized.  In  consequence,  the 
number  of  students  was  so  augmented  that  not- 
withstanding the  building  of  the  first  Stoughton 
Hall  less  than  twenty  years  before,  a  new  building 
was  required.  The  General  Court  appropriated 
thirty-five  hundred  pounds  to  provide  this,  and 
"  a  fair  and  goodly  house  of  brick  "  was  built  in 
1720  and  called  Massachusetts  Hall.  It  still  stands, 
the  earliest  of  the  present  college  buildings. 

During  Leverett's  administration,  the  first  cata- 
logue of  books  in  the  library  was  printed;  it  showed 
thirty-five  hundred  volumes  —  two-thirds  of  them 
theological  works,  most  of  the  others  in  Latin. 
Bacon,  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  and  Milton  were 
on  the  list;  but  Dryden,  Addison,  Pope,  Swift,  and 
many  others  now  regarded  as  classics  did  not  have 
a  place.  It  is  to  be  said  that  the  productions  of 
these  authors  were  at  that  time  so  recent  as  not 
fairly  to  have  established  their  title  to  permanence. 

An  entry  in  Leverett's  Diary  gives  a  glimpse  of  the 
college  discipline:  "A.  was  publickly  admonish'd 
in  the  College  Hall,  and  there  confessed  his  Sinful 
Excess  and  his  enormous  profanation  of  the  Holy 
Name  of  Almighty  God.  And  he  demeaned  himself 
so  that  the  Presid1  and  Fellows  conceived  great 
hopes  that  he  will  not  be  lost." 

46 


LEVERETT  AND   WADSWORTH 

The  prayers  at  which  these  public  confessions  and 
admonitions  were  made  were  held  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  After  prayers  there  were  recitations 
until  breakfast,  which  was  at  half-past  seven. 

Leverett,  for  all  his  tact  and  wisdom,  did  not  have 
an  untroubled  administration.  Governor  Dudley, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  advocates  of  his  election, 
wished  to  have  his  son  Paul  made  treasurer  of  the 
college.  His  wish  was  not  gratified,  and  the  dis- 
appointment rankled  in  both  father  and  son;  for 
some  time  afterwards  the  two  Dudleys  were  mis- 
chief-makers. They  even  encouraged  one  Pierpont, 
who  had  failed  to  get  his  decree,  to  prosecute  the 
tutor  who  had  flunked  him  and  to  appeal  from  the 
decision  of  the  Corporation  to  the  courts  of  com- 
mon law.  The  courts  sustained  the  college  and  dis- 
missed the  appeal. 

At  this  period  the  disorders  at  Commencement 
became  so  riotous  that  an  act  was  passed  "  for  re- 
forming the  extravagancys  of  Commencement." 
It  provided  "  that  henceforth  no  preparation  nor 
provision  of  either  Plumb  Cake,  or  Roasted,  Boyled, 
or  Baked  Meates  or  Pyes  of  any  kind  shall  be  made 
by  any  Commencer,"  and  that  none  should  have 
"  any  distilled  Lyquours  in  his  Chamber  or  any  com- 
position therewith,"  under  penalty  of  a  fine  of 

47 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

twenty  shillings  and  the  forfeiture  of  the  "  pro- 
hibited Provisions."  Acts  were  also  passed  "  for 
preventing  the  Excesses,  Immoralities,  and  Disorders 
of  the  Commencements."  The  Overseers  recom- 
mended to  the  Corporation  an  act  "  to  restrain  un- 
suitable and  unseasonable  dancing  in  the  College  " 
and  to  prevent  "  the  great  disturbances  occasioned 
by  tumultuous  and  indecent  noyses." 

These  legislative  attempts  seem  to  have  effected 
a  very  temporary  improvement.  At  any  rate  some 
twenty  years  later  three  troubled  fathers  who  had 
sons  about  to  graduate  offered  to  give  the  college 
one  thousand  pounds  "  if  a  trial  was  made  of  Com- 
mencements this  year  in  a  more  private  manner." 
The  Corporation  wished  to  accept  this  offer,  but 
the  Overseers  —  whose  character  must  have  changed 
since  the  time  when  they  urged  more  drastic  legis- 
lation —  declined  it. 

In  Leverett's  last  years  there  was  discord  between 
the  House  of  Representatives  and  the  Corporation, 
which  to  some  extent  represented  the  aristocratic, 
royal  government.  The  House  made  a  vain  attempt 
to  alter  the  make-up  of  the  Corporation.  Leverett 
found  himself  in  the  uncomfortable  position  of  hav- 
ing to  oppose  first  one  group  of  supporters,  and 
then  another.  He  and  his  family  were  dependent 

48 


LEVERETT  AND  WADSWORTH 

chiefly  on  grants  from  the  General  Court;  these 
amounted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  annually. 
The  cost  of  living  had  increased,  and  inflation  had 
depreciated  the  currency.  Under  such  stress  of 
circumstances,  it  might  have  been  politic  for  Lever- 
ett  to  make  concessions  to  the  General  Court  and 
to  uphold  them  in  their  differences  with  the  Cor- 
poration. He  was  never  governed  by  motives  of 
self-interest,  however;  in  1724  he  died  bankrupt, 
and  his  children  had  to  sell  the  mansion  house  of 
Governor  Leverett,  which  had  descended  to  them 
from  their  great-grandfather. 

Excellent  president  though  Leverett  was,  the  chief 
laudations  of  the  historian  of  this  period  are  not 
lavished  upon  him.  Benjamin  Peirce,  the  recorder 
of  these  early  days,  indulged  his  enthusiasm  in  the 
following  marveling  words :  "  The  College  had 
already  begun  to  engage  the  attention  of  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  families  that  Providence  ever 
raised  up  for  the  benefit  of  the  human  race.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  I  allude  to  the  family 
of  Hollis." 

The  benefactions  of  this  family  began  in  1719 
with  an  invoice  of  twelve  casks  of  nails  and  one  of 
cutlery  from  Thomas  Hollis,  a  London  merchant. 
For  the  next  nine  years  he  made  frequent  and  liberal 

49 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

gifts,  sometimes  of  money,  sometimes  of  books  or 
other  articles;  in  all  he  gave  the  college  about 
two  thousand  pounds.  He  founded  ten  scholar- 
ships and  begged  the  Corporation  to  beware  of 
recommending  for  them  "  rakes  or  dunces." 

Thomas  Hollis  was  about  sixty  years  old  when  he 
first  began  to  make  gifts  to  Harvard  College.  He 
had  formed  a  friendship  by  correspondence  with 
Benjamin  Colman,  a  tutor  in  the  college  and  member 
of  the  Corporation,  and  in  consequence  of  it  "  the 
main  course  of  his  bounty  was  directed  towards  New 
England,  and  particularly  to  Harvard  College." 

There  were  reasons  why  he  should  not  have  felt 
favorably  disposed  towards  Harvard.  He  was  a 
Baptist  —  a  member  of  a  sect  that  was  abhorred 
by  some  of  the  colleg-e  authorities  and  disliked  by 
most  of  them.  Hollis  was  well  aware  of  the  un- 
friendly attitude  that  prevailed  in  New  England 
towards  members  of  his  denomination,  and  gave 
the  college  much  wise  advice  as  well  as  books  and 
money.  In  making  a  gift  to  the  library  he  wrote: 
"  If  there  happen  to  be  some  books  not  quite  ortho- 
dox, in  search  after  truth  with  an  honest  design, 
don't  be  afraid  of  them.  .  .  .  '  Thus  saith  Aristotle,' 
'  Thus  saith  Calvin,'  will  not  now  pass  for  proof  in 
our  London  disputations."  The  largest  settle- 

50 


LEVERETT  AND  WADSWORTH 

ments  of  Baptists  were  in  Pennsylvania  and  New 
Jersey.  "  If  any  from  those  parts,"  he  urged, 
"  should  now  or  hereafter  make  application  to  your 
college,  I  beseech  the  College  to  show  kindness  to 
such,  and  stretch  their  charity  a  little.  It  is  what  I 
wish  the  Baptists  to  do,  though  I  have  no  great  ex- 
pectation." 

The  New  England  mind  of  the  period  was,  how- 
ever, not  capable  of  entertaining  tolerant  views  or 
even  of  appreciating  generosity  of  nature  as  well  as 
of  purse.  When  Hollis,  among  his  other  bene- 
factions, founded  a  professorship  of  divinity,  which 
he  expressly  stipulated  was  to  be  non-sectarian,  the 
Overseers  took  measures  of  a  devious  nature  to 
frustrate  his  design  and  to  exclude  Baptists  from 
ever  occupying  the  chair  that  he  had  established. 
He  saw  clearly  enough  the  object  at  which  they 
aimed  and  which  they  tried  by  tortuous  subter- 
fuges to  conceal,  and  contented  himself  with  ad- 
ministering a  mild  reproof. 

Even  after  such  treatment  at  the  hands  of  his 
beneficiaries,  Hollis  continued  to  assist  the  college. 
He  had  confidence  in  Leverett,  and  in  Benjamin 
Colman,  with  whom  he  continued  to  carry  on  an 
interesting  and  pithy  correspondence.  Indeed,  there 
is  no  one  among  the  early  Harvard  worthies  who 

51 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

appears  through  what  is  recorded  and  through  his 
own  written  words  in  a  more  attractive  light  than 
this  elderly  patron  overseas.  When,  on  the  acces- 
sion of  George  II,  the  Corporation  felt  moved  to 
send  an  address  to  the  king,  brimming  with  pious 
expressions  and  assurances,  they  asked  Thomas 
Hollis  to  have  it  presented.  He  wrote  in  reply: 

"  I  have  showed  your  address  to  sundry  persons, 
who  say  your  compliments  to  our  court  now  are 
fifty  if  not  one  hundred  years  too  ancient  for  our 
present  polite  style  and  court.  .  .  .  What  have 
courts  to  do  to  study  Old  Testament  phrases  and 
prophecies?  " 

A  request  for  his  portrait  drew  a  slightly  satirical 
response.  He  wrote  to  Colman: 

"  I  have  been  prevailed  on  at  your  instance  to 
sit  the  first  time  for  my  picture,  a  present  to  your 
Hall.  I  doubt  not  that  they  are  pleased  with  my 
monies,  but  I  have  some  reason  to  think  that  some 
among  you  will  not  be  pleased  to  see  the  shade  of  a 
Baptist  hung  there,  unless  you  get  a  previous 
order  to  admit  it,  and  forbidding  any  indecencies 
to  it." 

Eventually  he  sent  his  "  shade  "  and  wrote: 

"  Perhaps  some  among  you  will  be  pleased  with 
the  picture  for  the  painter's  performance,  though 

52 


LEVERETT  AND   WADSWORTH 

others  may  secretly  despise  it  because  of  the  particu- 
lar principle  of  the  original." 

A  kindly,  modest,  generous  gentleman  was  Thomas 
Hollis;  he  shines  all  the  brighter  by  contrast  with 
the  Mathers  of  the  time.  And  his  son  and  his  son's 
sons  inherited  his  friendship  for  Harvard  College 
and  his  generous  disposition. 

Upon  Leverett's  death  in  1724,  the  Corporation 
chose  the  Rev.  Joseph  Sewall  to  succeed  him.  Cot- 
ton Mather,  who  had  lived  on  in  expectancy,  was 
moved  to  a  fresh  outburst  of  wrath: 

"  I  am  informed  that  yesterday  the  Six  men  who 
call  themselves  the  Corporation  of  the  College  met 
and,  contrary  to  the  epidemical  expectation  of  the 
country,  chose  a  modest  young  man,  of  whose  piety 
(and  little  else)  everyone  gives  a  laudable  character. 

"  I  always  foretold  these  two  things  of  the  Cor- 
poration: first,  that  if  it  were  possible  for  them  to 
steer  clear  of  me,  they  will  do  so;  secondly,  that  if 
it  were  possible  for  them  to  act  foolishly,  they  will 
do  so. 

'  The  perpetual  envy  with  which  my  essays  to 
serve  the  Kingdom  of  God  are  treated  among  them, 
and  the  dread  that  Satan  has  of  my  beating  up  his 
quarters  at  the  College  led  me  into  the  former  senti- 
ment; the  marvellous  indiscretion  with  which  the 

53 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

affairs  of  the  College  are  managed  led  me  into  the 
latter." 

Sewall  felt  unable  to  accept  so  ill-paid  an  office, 
and  Cotton  Mather's  hopes  of  a  chance  to  beat  up 
Satan's  quarters  in  the  college  were  roused  once 
more.  But  with  the  election  of  Benjamin  Colman 
they  were  finally  extinguished;  in  a  last  outcry  of 
disgust,  Mather  exhibited  his  immeasurable  ego- 
tism: 

"  The  Corporation  of  the  miserable  College  do 
again  on  a  fresh  opportunity  treat  me  with  their 
accustomed  indignity." 

Simply  because  they  had  failed  to  make  him 
president! 

Colman  followed  Sewall's  example  and  declared 
that  he  could  not  undertake  the  office  unless  a 
proper  salary  was  fixed  by  the  General  Court.  In 
the  depreciated  state  of  the  currency,  the  president's 
salary  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  was, 
as  Leverett  had  found,  too  little  to  provide  a  living. 
But  the  General  Court  refused  to  have  its  hand 
forced,  and  Colman  therefore  declined  the  election. 

Next  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Wadsworth  was  offered 
the  honor,  and  accepted  it.  Thereupon  the  General 
Court,  which  had  not  been  amenable  to  suggestion 
or  entreaty,  did  bestir  itself  to  make  some  better 

54 


Harvard  Hall 


LEVERETT  AND   WADSWORTH 

provision  for  the  president.  It  undertook  to  build 
a  house  for  him  —  of  which  the  present  Wads  worth 
House  is  a  survival  and  amplification  —  and  it  in- 
creased his  salary  to  four  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
Unfortunately  the  continued  depreciation  of  the 
currency  was  proportionate  to  this  increase,  so 
that  the  measures  for  the  president's  relief  were  not 
particularly  effective.  The  house  that  was  begun 
for  him  was  not  finished;  Wadsworth  had  to  move 
into  it  when  it  was  incomplete. 

The  thirteen  years  of  Wadsworth's  administra- 
tion were  not  especially  noteworthy.  Before  this 
time  the  tutors  had  acted  in  all  matters  of  discipline 
on  their  own  personal  authority;  each  man  had 
dealt  with  each  individual  case  as  it  came  before 
him.  Under  Wadsworth,  however,  they  began  to 
administer  discipline  and  punishment  as  a  board^ 
no  longer  individually.  The  change  was  necessitated 
by  the  growing  disorders  of  the  time.  A  reaction 
from  the  strict  Puritanism  of  the  earlier  years  was 
taking  place,  and  the  students  were  making  the  most 
of  it.  The  Commencements  were  more  lively  than 
ever,  and  more  than  ever  disturbing  to  the  sober 
element  of  the  community. 

In  1734  the  president  and  fellows  of  the  Corpora- 
tion issued  some  severe  regulations  in  an  attempt 

55 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

to  enforce  upon  the  undergraduates  a  more  religious 
and  studious  life. 

"  All  the  scholars  shall,  at  sunset  in  the  evening 
preceding  the  Lord's  Day,  retire  to  their  chambers 
and  not  unnecessarily  leave  them;  and  all  dis- 
orders on  said  evening  shall  be  punished  as  viola- 
tions of  the  Sabbath  are.  .  .  .  And  whosoever  shall 
profane  said  day  —  the  Sabbath  —  by  unnecessary 
business,  or  visiting,  walking  on  the  Common,  or  in 
the  streets  or  fields,  in  the  town  of  Cambridge,  or 
by  any  sort  of  diversion  before  sunset,  or  that  in 
the  evening  of  the  Lord's  Day  shall  behave  himself 
disorderly,  or  any  way  unbecoming  the  season,  shall 
be  fined  not  exceeding  ten  shillings. 

"  That  the  scholars  may  furnish  themselves  with 
useful  learning,  they  shall  keep  in  their  respective 
chambers,  and  diligently  follow  their  studies;  ex- 
cept half  an  hour  at  breakfast;  at  dinner  from 
twelve  to  two;  and  after  evening  prayers  till  nine 
of  the  clock.  To  that  end,  the  Tutors  shall  fre- 
quently visit  their  chambers  after  nine  o'clock  in 
the  evening  and  at  other  studying  times,  to  quicken 
them  to  their  business." 

It  does  not  seem  as  if,  under  such  a  system  of 
vigilance  and  visitation,  the  students  could  fall 
into  very  dissolute  ways.  But  a  few  years  later, 

56 


LEVERETT  AND  WADSWORTH 

George  Whitefield,  an  evangelist  who  was  stirring 
up  New  England,  visited  Harvard  College  and  ex- 
pressed his  displeasure  at  the  dissipated  habits  of 
the  young  men.  He  declared  that  the  conditions 
at  Oxford  were  no  worse  —  a  charge  so  damaging 
that  it  greatly  disturbed  and  incensed  the  college 
authorities. 


57 


CHAPTER  V 

BEFORE    THE    REVOLUTION 

IN  1737  the  Reverend  Edward  Holyoke  of 
Marblehead  was  elected  to  succeed  Wadsworth 
and  entered  upon  an  administration  of  more  than 
thirty  years.  During  that  period,  stirring  events 
were  taking  place  in  the  world  outside  which  af- 
fected the  tranquillity  of  the  college.  In  1745  and 
1756  the  wars  with  France  drew  to  the  frontier 
many  young  men  who  would  otherwise  have  been 
at  their  books.  The  provincial  debt  created  by  these 
wars  was  enormous  and  resulted  as  usual  in  an  issue 
of  paper  money  and  general  financial  embarrass- 
ment. These  causes  reduced  the  number  of  students 
at  Harvard;  moreover,  sectarian  jealousies  were 
instrumental  in  affecting  temporarily  the  pros- 
perity of  the  college.  And  finally,  at  the  end  of 
Holyoke's  administration,  came  the  preliminary 
rumblings  of  the  Revolution. 

One  of  the  first  matters  that  Holyoke  had  to  deal 
with  was  the  misconduct  of  Isaac  Greenwood,  the 

58 


BEFORE   THE   REVOLUTION 

first  Hollis  professor  of  mathematics.  Hollis,  who 
had  known  Greenwood  in  England,  was  not  en- 
thusiastic over  his  appointment,  but  refrained 
from  prejudicing  the  Corporation  against  him.  Be- 
fore long  Greenwood's  intemperate  habits  were 
subjecting  him  to  repeated  admonishment,  and  at 
last,  in  1738,  since  all  his  efforts  to  reform  proved 
vain,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  college.  Shortly 
afterwards  the  same  fate  overtook  Nathan  Prince, 
who  was  not  only  a  tutor,  but  also  a  member  of 
the  Corporation. 

Possibly  this  behavior  on  the  part  of  two  members 
of  the  government  was  significant  of  a  general  lax- 
ness  of  conduct.  At  any  rate,  in  1740  a  committee 
was  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the  college. 
From  time  to  time  this  committee  brought  in  cer- 
tain recommendations,  and  pointed  out  certain 
evils,  as  "  the  costly  habits  of  many  of  the  scholars, 
their  wearing  gold  or  silver  lace,  or  brocades,  silk 
nightgowns,  etc.,  as  tending  to  discourage  persons 
from  giving  their  children  a  college  education." 

The  practises  of  the  seniors  on  the  day  when  they 
met  to  choose  their  class  officers  drew  a  word  of 
admonition  which  carried  the  wisdom  of  Dogberry: 
"  It  is  usual  for  each  scholar  to  bring  a  bottle  of 
wine  with  him,  which  practice  the  Committee  ap- 

59 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

prebend  has  a  natural  tendency  to  produce  dis- 
orders." 

At  the  same  time,  the  authorities  showed  a  dis- 
position to  modify  the  severity  of  some  of  the  old 
laws.  Thus,  in  1759,  it  was  voted  that  "  it  shall  be 
no  offence  if  any  scholar  shall,  at  Commencement, 
make  and  entertain  guests  at  his  chamber  with 
punch."  Two  years  later  a  still  further  concession 
was  made:  the  limitation,  "  at  Commencement," 
was  removed,  and  it  was  announced  that  the  schol- 
ars might  "  in  a  sober  manner  "  entertain  strangers 
and  each  other  with  punch,  — "  which,  as  it  is 
now  usually  made,  is  no  intoxicating  liquor." 

This  was  certainly  a  naive  admission,  and  like- 
wise worthy  of  Dogberry;  it  cannot  be  supposed 
that  the  undergraduates  of  Harvard  have  ever  had 
a  uniform  and  strictly  temperance  receipt  for  making 
punch. 

The  fines  for  misconduct  were  as  follows: 

s.    d. 

Absence   from  prayers  2 

Tardiness  at  prayers  I 

Absence  from  public  worship  9 

Tardiness  at  public  worship  3 
111  behavior  at  public  worship,  not 

exceeding  9 

Neglect  to  repeat  the  sermon  9 

60 


BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION 

s.    d. 

Absence    from     professor's    public 

lecture  4 

Profanation  of  the  Lord's  Day,  not 

exceeding  3 

Tarrying  out  of  town  without  leave, 

not  exceeding  I     3  per  diem. 

Going  out  of  college  without  proper 

garb,  not  exceeding  6 

Frequenting  taverns,  not  exceeding     I     6 
Profane  cursing,  not  exceeding  2     6 

Playing  cards,  not  exceeding  5 

Selling    and    exchanging     without 

leave  I     6 

Lying,  not  exceeding  I     6 

Drunkenness,  not  exceeding  I     6 

Going  upon  the  top  of  the  college         I     6 
Tumultuous  noises  I     6 

"      2d  offence  3 

Refusing  to  give  evidence  3 

Rudeness  at  meals  I 

Keeping  guns,  and  going  skating          I 
Fighting,   or   hurting    persons,   not 

exceeding  I     6 

Card-playing  was  apparently  regarded  as  more 
than  three  times  as  bad  as  lying,  profanity  was 
nearly  twice  as  bad  as  drunkenness,  and  fighting 
was  only  half  as  objectionable  to  the  authorities 
as  refusing  to  "  peach  "  on  one's  friends. 

In  spite  of  the  not  altogether  prosperous  condi- 
tion of  the  college,  several  buildings  were  added 

61 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

during  Holyoke's  administration.  In  1737  Madam 
Holden,  the  widow  of  a  London  merchant,  and  her 
daughters  gave  four  hundred  pounds  for  the  build- 
ing of  the  chapel  which  bears  Holden's  name.  It 
was  soon  devoted  to  other  purposes  than  those  of 
worship.  In  1762  the  Overseers  presented  a  peti- 
tion to  the  General  Court,  pointing  out  that  nearly 
a  hundred  of  the  undergraduates  had  to  take  rooms 
in  private  houses,  and  asking  for  an  appropriation 
to  build  a  new  dormitory.  Massachusetts  Hall 
could  receive  only  sixty-four  students;  a  building 
at  least  one-third  larger  than  that  was  therefore 
required.  In  accordance  with  this  petition,  the 
House  granted  two  thousand  pounds  out  of  the 
public  treasury,  and  the  building  thus  erected  was 
named  Hollis  Hall. 

Shortly  after  performing  this  friendly  and  gener- 
ous act,  the  General  Court  was  driven  out  of  Boston 
by  an  epidemic  of  smallpox.  On  January  16,  1764, 
it  was  adjourned  to  Cambridge  and  went  into  session 
in  the  old  Harvard  Hall.  The  college  library,  on  the 
second  floor  of  the  building,  was  occupied  by  the 
governor  and  the  council;  the  hall  below  by  the 
representatives.  On  the  night  of  January  24  fire 
destroyed  the  building  with  all  its  contents  —  li- 
brary, philosophical  apparatus,  and  personal  be- 

62 


BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION 

* 

longings.  How  important  a  calamity  this  was  may 
be  inferred  from  the  account  given  in  the  Massachu- 
setts Gazette  for  February  2,  1764. 

"  Cambridge,  January  25,  1764. 
"  Last  night  Harvard  College  suffered  the  most 
ruinous  loss  it  ever  met  with  since  its  foundation. 
In  the  middle  of  a  very  tempestuous  night,  a  severe 
cold  storm  of  snow,  attended  with  high  wind,  we 
were  awakened  by  the  alarm  of  fire.  Harvard  Hall, 
the  only  one  of  our  ancient  buildings  which  still 
remained,  and  the  repository  of  our  most  valuable 
treasures,  the  public  Library  and  Philosophical  Ap- 
paratus, was  seen  in  flames.  As  it  was  a  time  of  va- 
cation, in  which  the  students  were  all  dispersed,  not 
a  single  person  was  left  in  any  of  the  Colleges, 
except  two  or  three  in  that  part  of  Massachusetts 
most  distant  from  Harvard,  where  the  fire  could 
not  be  perceived  till  the  whole  surrounding  air  be- 
gan to  be  illuminated  by  it.  When  it  was  discovered 
from  the  t'own,  it  had  risen  to  a  degree  of  violence 
that  defied  all  opposition.  It  is  conjectured  to  have 
begun  in  a  beam  under  the  hearth  in  the  Library, 
where  a  fire  had  been  kept  for  the  use  of  the  General 
Court,  now  residing  and  sitting  here,  by  reason  of 
the  smallpox  at  Boston;  from  thence  it  burst  out  into 

63 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  Library.  The  books  easily  submitted  to  the 
fury  of  the  flame,  which,  with  a  rapid  and  irresist- 
ible progress,  made  its  way  into  the  apparatus 
chamber,  and  spread  through  the  whole  building. 
In  a  very  short  time  this  venerable  monument  of 
the  piety  of  our  ancestors  was  turned  into  a  heap 
of  ruins.  The  other  Colleges,  Stoughton  Hall  and 
Massachusetts  Hall,  were  in  the  utmost  hazard  of 
sharing  the  same  fate.  The  wind  driving  the  fla- 
ming cinders  directly  upon  their  roofs,  they  blazed 
out  several  times  in  different  places;  nor  could  they 
have  been  saved  by  all  the  help  the  town  could 
offer,  had  it  not  been  for  the  assistance  of  the  gentle- 
men of  the  General  Court,  among  whom  his  Excel- 
lency the  Governor  was  very  active;  who,  notwith- 
standing the  extreme  rigor  of  the  season,  exerted 
themselves  in  supplying  the  town  engine  with 
water,  which  they  were  obliged  to  fetch  at  last  from 
a  distance,  two  of  the  College  pumps  being  then 
rendered  useless.  Even  the  new  and  beautiful 
Hollis  Hall,  though  it  was  on  the  windward  side, 
hardly  escaped.  It  stood  so  near  to  Harvard  that 
the  flames  actually  seized  it,  and,  if  they  had  not 
been  immediately  suppressed,  must  have  carried  it. 
"  But  by  the  blessing  of  God  on  the  vigorous 
efforts  of  the  assistants,  the  ruin  was  confined  to 

64 


BEFORE   THE   REVOLUTION 

Harvard  Hall;  and  there,  besides  the  destruction 
of  the  private  property  of  those  who  had  chambers 
in  it,  the  public  loss  is  very  great,  perhaps  irrepa- 
rable. The  Library  and  the  apparatus,  which  for 
many  years  had  been  growing,  and  were  now  judged 
to  be  the  best  furnished  in  America  are  annihi- 
lated." 

The  library  thus  destroyed  contained  five  thou- 
sand volumes.  Of  the  three  hundred  and  twenty  that 
John  Harvard  had  bequeathed,  only  one  was  saved 
— "  The  Christian  Warfare  Against  the  Devill, 
World,  and  Flesh."  The  intrinsic  value  of  the 
books  and  the  "  philosophical  apparatus "  has 
been  many  times  replaced,  but  we  must  even  now 
feel  a  sentimental  regret  for  the  loss  of  practically 
all  that  identified  the  college  with  the  personality 
of  its  earliest  benefactor. 

Prompted  possibly  by  some  sense  of  responsibility 
for  the  disaster,  the  General  Court  at  once  voted 
a  sum  of  money  for  rebuilding.  The  Overseers 
appointed  a  Committee  of  Correspondence  to 
obtain  contributions  from  England  as  well  as  from 
the  colonies  for  the  purchase  of  books.  Subscrip- 
tions were  immediate  and  liberal.  Thomas  Hollis, 
a  great-nephew  of  the  first  benefactor  of  that  name, 
was  the  largest  contributor. 

65 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Harvard  Hall,  rebuilt,  was  finished  in  1766;  it 
stands  on  the  site  of  the  burned  building.  The 
library  occupied  the  western  half  of  the  upper 
story;  the  eastern  half  was  divided  into  rooms  for 
the  philosophical  department  and  for  a  museum 
of  natural  and  artificial  curiosities.  On  the  lower 
floor,  the  eastern  half  was  used  for  commons,  the 
western  for  prayers.  The  total  cost  of  the  build- 
ing was  about  sixty-nine  hundred  pounds. 

Massachusetts  Hall  and  Hollis  Hall  soon  proved 
inadequate  to  house  all  the  students.  Therefore,  in 
June,  1765,  the  General  Court  passed  an  act  "  for 
raising  by  Lottery  the  sum  of  3200  pounds,  for  build- 
ing another  Hall  for  the  Students  of  Harvard  College 
to  dwell  in."  This  was  the  first  attempt  to  secure 
money  for  the  institution  by  a  method  which  became 
for  some  years  popular.  The  preamble  to  the  act 
stated  "  that  the  buildings  belonging  to  Harvard  Col- 
lege are  greatly  insufficient  for  lodging  the  Students 
of  the  said  College,  and  will  become  much  more  so 
when  Stoughton  Hall  shall  be  pulled  down,  as  by  its 
present  ruinous  state  it  appears  it  soon  must  be. 
And  whereas  there  is  no  Fund  for  erecting  such 
Buildings,  and  considering  the  great  Expense  which 
the  General  Court  has  lately  been  at  in  building 
Hollis  Hall,  and  also  in  rebuilding  Harvard  College, 

66 


BEFORE   THE   REVOLUTION 

it  cannot  be  expected  that  any  further  provision  for 
the  College  should  be  made  out  of  the  Public  Treas- 
ury; so  that  no  other  resort  is  left  but  to  private 
Benefactions,  which  it  is  conceived  will  be  best 
excited  by  means  of  a  Lottery." 

Shares  in  this  attractive  enterprise  were  readily 
disposed  of,  and  in  a  short  time  the  proceeds  enabled 
the  college  to  build  another  brick  dormitory  near 
Hollis  Hall.  By  the  time  that  it  was  finished,  the 
dilapidated  old  Stoughton  Hall  was  ready  to  be 
demolished,  and  the  new  building  received  the  old 
building's  name. 

Some  of  the  more  important  text-books  used  in 
the  courses  at  this  time  were  Virgil's  ^Eneid,  Cicero's 
Orations,  Homer,  the  Greek  Testament,  Euclid's 
Geometry,  Watts's  Logic,  and  Locke's  "  On  the 
Human  Understanding."  The  committee  on  the 
state  of  the  college  made  various  recommendations 
for  broadening  the  instruction;  the  most  important 
was  that  the  tutors,  instead  of  teaching  more  than 
one  subject  or  group  of  subjects,  should  henceforth 
specialize  in  one. 

On  account  of  the  unsatisfactory  food  to  be  had 
at  the  commons,  many  of  the  students  preferred 
to  board  at  private  houses.  This  was  displeasing 
to  the  Overseers,  who  in  1757  suggested  to  the  Cor- 

67 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

poration  "  that  it  would  very  much  contribute 
to  the  health  of  that  society,"  -  the  undergrad- 
uates, —  "  facilitate  their  studies,  and  prevent  ex- 
travagant expense,  if  the  scholars  were  restrained 
from  dieting  in  private  families."  They  recom- 
mended, as  a  concession  and  inducement,  "  that 
there  should  be  pudding  three  times  a  week,  and 
on  those  days  their  meat  should  be  lessened." 
Not  until  1765,  however,  did  the  Corporation 
impose  these  recommendations  upon  the  college. 

The  students  did  not  submit  to  them  meekly. 
There  were  "  great  disorders,  tending  to  subvert 
all  government."  That  delightful  historian,  Ben- 
jamin Peirce,  writing  some  time  later,  yet  at  a 
period  when  uprisings  against  the  quality  of  food 
were  frequent,  makes  an  impassioned  defence  of 
the  commons:  "Their  beneficial  effects  are  ex- 
tended beyond  the  walls  of  the  College.  To  a  great 
degree,  the  Commons,  it  is  believed,  regulate  the 
price  and  quality  of  board  even  in  private  families, 
and  thus  secure  in  the  town  a  general  style  of  living 
at  once  economical  and  favorable  to  health  and  to 
study.  But  the  very  circumstance  which  is  their 
chief  recommendation  is  the  occasion  also  of  all 
the  odium  which  they  have  to  encounter;  that 
simplicity  which  makes  the  fare  cheap  and  whole- 

68 


BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION 

some  and  philosophical  renders  it  also  unsatisfactory 
to  dainty  palates;  and  the  occasional  appearance 
of  some  unlucky  meat  or  other  food  is  a  signal  for 
a  general  outcry  against  the  provisions." 

In  1746  "  breakfast  was  two  sizings  of  bread  and 
a  cue  of  beer,"  and  "  evening  Commons  were  a 
Pye."  "  As  to  the  Commons,"  wrote  an  old 
gentleman  of  the  class  of  1759,  "  there  were  in  the 
morning  none  while  I  was  in  College  "  —  the  stu- 
dents had  then  formed  the  habit  of  breakfasting 
at  private  houses.  —  "  At  dinner  we  had,  of  rather 
ordinary  quality,  a  sufficiency  of  meat  of  some  kind, 
either  baked  or  boiled;  and  at  supper  we  had  either 
a  pint  of  milk  and  half  a  biscuit,  or  a  meat  pye  or 
some  other  kind.  We  were  allowed  at  dinner  a  cue 
of  beer,  which  was  a  half-pint,  and  a  sizing  of  bread, 
which  I  cannot  describe  to  you.  It  was  quite  suf- 
ficient for  one  dinner."  Each  student  carried  to  the 
dining-room  his  own  knife  and  fork,  and  when  he 
had  dined  wiped  them  on  the  table-cloth.  In  1764 
it  was  decided  "  that  it  would  be  much  for  the 
interest  of  the  Scholars  to  be  prevented  breakfast- 
ing in  the  townspeople's  houses;  "  and  breakfast 
at  the  commons  was  made  compulsory. 

About  one  adjunct  to  the  commons,  Peirce  has 
a  dithyrambic  passage:  "The  Buttery  removed  all 

69 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

just  occasion  for  resorting  to  the  different  marts  of 
luxury,  intemperance,  and  ruin.  This  was  a  kind 
of  supplement  to  the  Commons,  and  offered  for 
sale  to  the  Students,  at  a  moderate  advance  on  the 
cost,  wines,  liquors,  groceries,  stationery,  and  in 
general  such  articles  as  it  was  proper  and  necessary 
for  them  to  have  occasionally." 

That  so  meritorious  an  institution  should  have 
been  permitted  to  pass  out  of  existence  the  modern 
undergraduate  must  regret.  The  Co-operative  store, 
though  filling  a  useful  function  in  undergraduate 
life,  does  not  supply  even  "  at  a  moderate  advance 
on  the  cost  "  all  the  essentials  that  were  furnished 
by  the  buttery,  nor  can  it  be  said  in  any  sense  to 
compete  successfully  with  "  the  different  marts  of 
luxury,  intemperance,  and  ruin." 

Besides  fulfilling  the  useful  purposes  above  de- 
scribed, the  buttery  was  an  office  where  records  were 
kept  of  absences  from  the  college.  The  students 
of  the  present  day  would  no  doubt  find  the  intro- 
duction of  a  grog  shop  into  the  office  of  the  recorder 
delightfully  incongruous,  but  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  such  a  juxtaposition  apparently 
excited  no  wonder.  The  butler,  who  was  a  college 
graduate  and  received  a  salary  of  sixty  pounds  a 
year,  dispensed  the  potables,  kept  the  records, 

70 


BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION 

rang  the  bell,  and  saw  that  the  hall  was  kept  clean 
and  in  good  order.  He  was  bar-keeper,  stationer, 
recorder,  bell-ringer  and  janitor,  all  in  one. 

The  price  of  board  at  the  commons  was  between 
seven  and  eight  shillings  a  week.  A  committee  ap- 
pointed in  1766  to  investigate  the  disorders  found 
"  that  there  has  been  great  neglect  in  the  Steward 
in  the  quality  of  the  Butter  provided  by  him  for  many 
weeks  past,"  but  that  "  the  act  of  the  Students  in 
leaving  the  Hall  in  a  body  and  showing  contempt  of 
the  Tutors  was  altogether  unwarrantable  and  of 
most  dangerous  tendency."  The  students  were 
somewhat  impressed  by  the  committee's  recom- 
mendations and  censure;  but  in  1768  disorders 
again  broke  out.  The  committee  reported  "  that 
a  combination  had  been  entered  into  by  a  great 
number  of  the  students  against  the  government; 
that  in  consequence  great  excesses  had  been  per- 
petrated; that  on  one  Saturday  night  brickbats 
were  thrown  into  the  windows  of  Mr.  Willard  the 
Tutor's  room,  endangering  the  lives  of  three  of  the 
Tutors  there  assembled,  and  that  for  this  audacious 
act  four  Students,  who  were  discovered  to  have 
committed  it,  were  expelled."  Later,  although 
President  Holyoke  protested,  the  Corporation  and" 
Overseers  reinstated  them,  because  "  many  who 

71 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

have  been  great  friends  and  benefactors  to  the 
Society  have  condescended  to  intercede  in  their 
behalf." 

"  A  Description  of  a  Number  of  Tyrannical 
Pedagogues,"  by  a  student  who  signed  himself 
Clementiae  Amator,  was  published  in  1769.  The 
opening  invocation, 

"  Begin,  O  Muse!  and  let  your  themes  be  these: 
Tutors  forever  should  their  pupils  please," 

expresses  a  perennial  undergraduate  sentiment.  The 
poet  laments  that  at  Harvard  this  is  not  the  case* 

"  The  tutors  now  instead  of  being  free, 

Humane  and  generous  as  they  ought  to  be, 

An  awful  distance,  dictatorial,  keep, 

And  mulcts  and  frowns  on  all  their  pupils  heap." 

Then  follows  the  description  of  one: 

"  Before  his  pupils  he  will  scowl  and  flout, 
And  with  importance  turn  his  chair  about, 
There  strut  and  then  display  a  lofty  crest, 
To  strike  a  terror  into  every  breast." 

Another 

"  spits  his  venom  with  sarcastick  wit 
And  grins  in  laughter  at  the  object  hit." 

And  of  yet  another  the  poet  complains, 

72 


BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Instead  of  acting  with  an  open  soul 
He  peeps  unmanly  into  every  hole, 
And  sometimes  listens  at  his  pupil's  door, 
Then  runs  back  tiptoe  as  he  came  before." 

Finally  the  lover  of  mercy  exhorts  his  brethren: 

"  I  would  advise  the  sons  of  Harvard  then 
To  let  them  know  that  they  are  sons  of  men, 
Not  brutes,  as  they  would  to  the  world  display 
By  their  ill  usage  and  unmanly  way; 
Then  cast  contempt  upon  the  demigods, 
Their  frowns,  their  mulcts,  their  favors  and  their 
nods." 

The  indignant  lines  possibly  fomented  the  up- 
rising which  took  place  when  the  faculty  announced 
that  excuses  for  absence  would  not  be  received  un- 
less offered  beforehand.  The  students  met  under 
a  tree  which  they  called  the  Tree  of  Liberty,  and 
declared  the  faculty's  rule  "  unconstitutional." 
They  then  proceeded  to  smash  windows  and  break 
furniture;  several  rioters  were  expelled.  The  senior 
class  were  so  aggrieved  at  this  that  they  asked  the 
president  to  transfer  them  to  Yale  in  order  that  they 
might  get  their  degrees  at  that  institution;  the 
other  classes  asked  to  be  discharged.  Neither  re- 
quest was  granted,  and  at  last  the  revolutionists 
accepted  the  "  unconstitutional  "  legislation. 

73 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

Some  of  the  rules  and  prohibitions  of  the  period 
were  as  follows: 

"  No  Freshman  shall  wear  his  hat  in  the  College 
Yard,  unless  it  rains,  hails,  or  snows,  provided  he 
be  on  foot  and  have  not  both  his  hands  full. 

"  No  Freshman  shall  speak  to  a  Senior  with  his 
hat  on. 

"  All  Freshmen  .  .  .  shall  be  obliged  to  go  on 
errands  for  any  of  their  Seniors,  graduates  or  under- 
graduates, at  any  time,  except  in  studying  hours, 
or  after  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

"  When  any  person  knocks  at  a  Freshman's 
door  except  in  studying  time,  he  shall  immediately 
open  the  door  without  inquiring  who  is  there. 

"  The  Freshmen  shall  furnish  batts,  balls  and 
footballs  for  the  use  of  the  students,  to  be  kept  in 
the  Buttery. 

"  The  Sophomores  shall  publish  these  customs  to 
the  Freshmen  in  the  Chapel,  whenever  ordered  by 
any  in  the  Government  of  the  College,  at  which 
time  the  Freshmen  are  required  to  keep  their  places 
in  their  seats  and  attend  with  decency  to  the  read- 
ing." 

The  class  of  1798  was  the  first  freshman  class  to 
be  emancipated  from  this  condition  of  servitude. 
Joseph  Story,  who  was  then  in  college,  was  one  of 

74 


The  Union 


BEFORE  THE   REVOLUTION 

the  leaders  in  bringing  about  the  reform.  He  took 
an  unprecedented  step  when  he  invited  his  fag 
into  his  room  and  made  him  his  friend. 

Harvard  was  not  an  especially  democratic  in- 
stitution in  those  days  —  far  less  so  than  at  pres- 
ent. Both  the  college  authorities  and  the  under- 
graduates themselves  showed  a  great  regard  for 
rank;  students  were  placed  in  class  according  to 
the  rank  of  their  parents.  "  Scholars  were  often 
enraged  beyond  bounds  for  their  disappointment 
in  their  place,"  writes  a  graduate  of  the  period. 
"  Often  it  was  some  time  before  a  class  could  settle 
down  to  an  acquiescence  in  their  allotment.  The 
highest  and  the  lowest  in  the  class  were  often  as- 
certained more  easily  than  the  intermediate  members 
where  there  was  room  for  uncertainty  whose  claim 
was  best,  and  where  partiality  no  doubt  was  some- 
times indulged.  The  higher  part  of  the  class  had 
generally  the  most  influential  friends,  and  they 
commonly  had  the  best  chambers  in  College  as- 
signed to  them.  They  had  also  a  right  to  help 
themselves  first  at  table  in  Commons.  The  fresh- 
man class  was  placed  within  six  or  nine  months 
after  their  admission.  The  official  notice  of  this 
was  given  by  having  their  names  written  in  a  large 
German  text,  in  a  handsome  style,  and  placed  in 

75 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

a  conspicuous  part  of  the  College  Buttery,  where 
the  names  of  the  four  classes  of  undergraduates 
were  kept  suspended  until  they  left  College.  If 
a  scholar  was  expelled,  his  name  was  taken  from 
its  place;  or  if  he  was  degraded  —  which  was  con- 
sidered the  next  highest  punishment  to  expulsion 
—  it  was  moved  accordingly.  As  soon  as  the  fresh- 
men were  apprised  of  their  places,  each  one  took 
his  station  according  to  the  new  arrangement  at 
recitation,  and  at  Commons,  and  in  the  Chapel, 
and  on  all  other  occasions.  And  this  arrangement 
was  never  afterward  altered  either  in  College  or  in 
the  Catalogue,  however  the  rank  of  the  parents 
might  be  varied."  Fortunately  this  snobbish  custom 
was  soon  to  be  abolished;  in  1772  the  students  were 
placed  in  alphabetical  order. 

However  aristocratic  in  its  manners  and  cus- 
toms Harvard  College  may  have  been  at  this  time, 
revolutionary  ideas  were  in  the  air  there  as  else- 
where. Among  the  public  disputations  at  the 
Commencement  of  the  class  of  1740  we  find  the 
following: 

"  Whether  it  be  lawful  to  resist  the  Supream 
Magistrate,  if  the  Common  Wealth  cannot  other- 
wise be  preserved. 

"  Affirm'd  by  Samuel  Adams." 
76 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  REVOLUTION:   HARVARD  IN  EXILE 

PRESIDENT  HOLYOKE  died  in  1769;  during 
the  last  few  months  of  his  life  the  college  was 
the  center  of  political  strife  and  ferment.  In  1768 
the  students  of  the  senior  class  had  unanimously 
voted  to  take  their  degrees  "  in  the  manufactures 
of  this  country,"  and  at  Commencement  in  July 
they  all  appeared  in  clothes  of  American  manu- 
facture. The  contumacy  of  the  colony  had  exas- 
perated the  British  government,  which  now  pro- 
ceeded to  coercive  measures.  In  November,  1768, 
two  British  regiments  of  infantry  and  a  part  of  a 
regiment  of  artillery  were  landed  in  Boston.  A 
military  guard  was  stationed  in  State  Street;  can- 
non were  pointed  at  the  door  of  the  State  House. 
The  feelings  of  the  legislature  and  of  the  people  were 
outraged;  and  when  it  became  apparent  that  this 
military  rigor  was  not  to  be  relaxed,  the  House  of 
Representatives  declared  to  Governor  Bernard  that 
"  an  armament  by  sea  and  land  investing  this  me- 

77 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

tropolis,  and  a  military  guard,  with  cannon  pointed 
at  the  very  door  of  the  State  House  where  this 
Assembly  is  held,  is  inconsistent  with  that  dignity, 
as  well  as  that  freedom,  with  which  we  have  a 
right  to  deliberate,  consult,  and  determine." 

The  royalist  governor  was  not  particularly  ac- 
cessible to  such  a  protest,  but  when  it  was  repeated 
in  even  more  pressing  terms,  he  replied  that  al- 
though he  had  no  authority  to  remove  the  troops, 
he  would  immediately  adjourn  the  legislature  to 
Cambridge. 

So  in  May,  1769,  the  General  Court  took  pos- 
session of  Harvard  College,  to  the  great  excitement 
of  the  students,  by  act  of  sovereign  authority. 
It  went  into  session  in  Holden  Chapel  and  remained 
in  session  until  after  Commencement;  on  that 
day  the  House  of  Representatives  dined  with  the 
Corporation  in  the  college  hall.  In  the  spring  of 
this  same  year,  the  students  formed  a  military 
organization,  which  they  called  the  Marti-Mercurian 
Band.  They  held  frequent  drills  and  had  a  striking 
uniform  —  blue  coats  faced  with  white,  nankeen 
breeches,  white  stockings,  top-boots,  and  cocked  hats. 

The  Rev.  Samuel  Locke  of  Sherburn  was  cho- 
sen president  in  December,  1769;  his  adminis- 
tration was  short  and  ineffectual.  In  those  stirring 

78 


THE    REVOLUTION:    HARVARD    IN   EXILE 

days,  the  young  men  at  Harvard  found  it  hard  to 
fix  their  attention  on  their  books;  the  most  de- 
termined president  and  faculty  probably  could  not 
have  curbed  their  restless  spirit.  They  lived  in 
the  midst  of  distracting  and  agitating  influences. 
The  legislature  continued  to  meet  in  the  college 
halls;  in  March,  1770,  Lieutenant-Go vernor  Hutch- 
inson,  Governor  Bernard  being  absent  in  Europe, 
prorogued  the  General  Court  from  Boston  to  Har- 
vard College.  There  it  remained  until  the  last 
week  in  April.  Then  Hutchinson  caused  writs 
to  be  issued  convening  the  General  Court  in  May 
again  at  Harvard  College.  The  Corporation  now 
protested  and  expressed  "  their  deep  concern  at 
the  precedent,  and  the  inconvenience  already  intro- 
duced." 

Indeed  the  undergraduates  must  have  chafed 
more  and  more  at  their  lessons  and  recitations,  must 
often  have  shirked  them  and  slipped  into  Holden 
Chapel  instead,  where  they  might  hear  Samuel 
Adams  and  James  Otis  and  gaze  with  admiration 
upon  the  resplendent  and  majestic  figure  of  John 
Hancock.  The  debates  and  the  oratory  of  those 
days  may  not  have  qualified  the  students  particularly 
for  their  degrees,  but  probably  no  classes  since  that 
time  have  left  Harvard  with  a  clearer  understanding 

79 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

of  the  great  contemporaneous  problems  or  a  more 
vivid  interest  in  the  affairs  of  state.  The  Rev. 
Andrew  Eliot  wrote  to  Thomas  Hollis: 

"  The  removal  of  the  General  Court  to  Cambridge 
hinders  the  scholars  in  their  studies.  The  young 
gentlemen  are  already  taken  up  with  politics.  They 
have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  times.  Their  dec- 
lamations and  forensic  disputes  breathe  the  spirit 
of  liberty." 

The  protest  of  the  Corporation  did  not  go  un- 
heeded. Instead  of  exercising  their  sovereign 
authority,  the  governor  and  council  made  a  formal 
application  for  the  use  of  the  college  halls  on  the 
day  of  the  general  election.  The  Corporation,  "  on 
due  consideration  of  the  circumstances  of  the  case," 
granted  the  request.  To  show  their  further  scru- 
pulous regard  for  the  rights  of  the  college,  the  House 
of  Representatives,  meeting  on  May  30,  declared 
"  that  they  did  not  choose  to  enter  the  chapel  of 
the  College  without  the  concurrence  of  those  with 
whom  the  property  and  care  of  it  is  betrusted."  In 
reply,  the  Corporation  at  once  passed  a  vote  "  sig- 
nifying their  consent  to  oblige  the  House,  in  such 
a  case  of  necessity." 

The  sympathies  of  the  Corporation  and  the  col- 
lege were  strongly  with  the  popular  cause.  Never- 

80 


THE   REVOLUTION:    HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

theless,  when  Hutchinson  received  his  appointment 
from  the  Crown  as  governor,  the  Corporation  gave 
a  dinner  in  his  honor  at  the  college  and  congratu- 
lated him  upon  his  commission.  Hutchinson  re- 
plied to  the  congratulatory  address,  which,  he 
said,  "  expresses  so  much  piety  and  loyalty  to  the 
King  "  —  a  sentiment  that  the  most  careful  reading 
fails  to  detect  —  and  declared  his  earnest  desire  to 
"  encourage  this  ancient  seat  of  learning."  An 
alumnus  of  the  college,  he  was  popular  with  the 
undergraduates;  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  his 
visits,  a  choir  of  students  sang  an  anthem  in  this 
strain:  "  Lo!  thus  shall  the  man  be  blessed  who 
fears  the  Lord!  For  thus  saith  the  Lord,  From  hence- 
forth, behold!  all  nations  shall  call  thee  blessed; 
for  thy  rulers  shall  be  of  thy  own  kindred,  your 
nobles  shall  be  of  yourselves,  and  thy  Governor 
shall  proceed  from  the  midst  of  thee." 

Feeling  perhaps  that  the  courtesy  which  they 
had  shown  Hutchinson  might  be  misinterpreted,  or 
else  repenting  it  and  desiring  to  affront  him,  the 
Corporation  now  conferred  an  unprecedented  honor 
on  John  Hancock,  who,  of  all  the  patriots  of  the 
day,  was  most  obnoxious  to  the  governor.  They 
voted  formally  that  he  "  be  invited  to  dine  in  the 
Hall  whenever  there  is  a  public  entertainment 

81 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

there,  and  to  sit  with  the  governors  of  the  College." 
Their  enthusiasm  for  this  popular  hero  carried 
them  further;  desiring  to  heap  honors  upon  him, 
impressed  by  his  wealth,  and  overlooking  his  prod- 
igality, they  elected  him  Treasurer  of  Harvard.  A 
more  unfortunate  choice  they  could  not  possibly 
have  made. 

At  the  end  of  1773,  President  Locke  resigned, 
and  was  succeeded  by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Langdon 
of  Portsmouth,  an  ardent  member  of  the  patriot 
party.  The  prevailing  sentiment  was  so  strongly 
revolutionary  that  no  one  who  held  loyalist  views 
could  have  been  considered  for  the  presidency  of 
the  college.  Yet  even  then  there  were  a  few  Tories 
among  the  undergraduates,  who  advertised  their 
convictions  and  their  loyalty  by  bringing  "  India 
tea  "  into  the  commons  and  drinking  the  detested 
stuff  —  a  practise  that  provoked  frequent  dis- 
orders. 

Immediately  after  the  fight  at  Lexington,  April 
I9i  I775>  tne  militia  of  Massachusetts  and  the 
neighboring  colonies  began  to  concentrate  in  Cam- 
bridge for  the  siege  of  Boston.  The  students  were 
obliged  to  leave  the  college  and  go  home  —  which 
it  may  be  believed  under  such  circumstances  they 
did  most  unwillingly.  Some  of  the  buildings  were 

82 


THE   REVOLUTION:     HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

turned  into  barracks  for  the  troops,  and  officers 
were  quartered  in  the  president's  house.  The 
books  were  removed  from  the  library  in  Harvard 
Hall  to  Andover. 

On  July  2,  Washington  arrived  in  Cambridge 
and  took  command  of  the  American  Army.  On 
July  31,  the  Corporation  of  Harvard  College  met 
at  Fowle's  Tavern  in  Watertown  and  voted  that 
since  "  on  account  of  the  confusion  and  distress  of 
the  times  "  a  public  Commencement  was  imprac- 
ticable, degrees  should  be  conferred  by  general 
diploma.  A  few  weeks  later  the  Overseers  voted 
"  that  the  education  of  the  scholars  of  Harvard 
College  cannot  be  carried  on  at  Cambridge  while 
the  war  in  which  we  have  been  forced  to  engage  for 
the  defence  of  our  liberties  shall  continue:  and 
therefore  that  it  is  necessary  some  other  place  shall 
be  speedily  appointed  for  that  purpose."  Concord 
was-  chosen,  and  there  in  September  the  college 
opened  its  temporary  quarters. 

Both  branches  of  the  legislature  now  passed  a 
vote  "  recommending  to  the  Corporation  and  Over- 
seers not  to  appoint  persons  as  governors  and  in- 
structors but  such  whose  political  principle  they 
can  confide  in,  and  also  to  inquire  into  the  prin- 
ciples of  such  as  are  now  in  office  and  dismiss  those 

83 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

who  by  their  past  or  present  conduct  appear  to  be 
unfriendly  to  the  liberties  and  privileges  of  the 
Colonies."  The  principles  of  all  the  officers  of 
instruction  and  government  appeared  upon  in- 
spection to  be  sufficiently  correct. 

The  British  troops  evacuated  Boston  on  March 
17,  1776.  On  April  3  the  Corporation  and  Over- 
seers met  at  Watertown  and  voted  that  the  degree 
of  LL.  D.  be  conferred  on  George  Washington  as 
an  "  expression  of  the  gratitude  of  this  College 
for  his  eminent  services  in  the  cause  of  his  country 
and  to  this  society."  Washington  was  the  first 
person  to  receive  the  degree  of  LL.  D.  from  Har- 
vard. On  the  day  that  they  passed  this  vote,  the 
Corporation  appealed  to  the  Council  and  House  of 
Representatives  to  make  good  the  damages  sus- 
tained by  the  college  during  the  occupation  of  its 
buildings  by  the  American  army.  Immediate 
compensation  was  requested  in  order  that  the 
students  might  return  to  Cambridge  as  soon  as 
possible.  The  students  themselves,  who  were  most 
discontented  with  their  quarters  in  Concord,  likewise 
petitioned  the  legislature.  Although  the  question 
of  damages  remained  unsettled,  the  students  reas- 
sembled in  Cambridge  on  June  21,  1776,  after  an 
absence  of  about  fourteen  months. 

84 


THE   REVOLUTION:    HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

After  the  actual  outbreak  of  the  Revolution, 
there  seems  to  have  been  in  the  college  but  one 
British  sympathizer.  This  individual  had  absented 
himself  from  the  college  during  its  sojourn  at  Con- 
cord; now  he  applied  for  re-admission  and  was 
refused,  on  the  ground  that  he  "  had  been  found 
guilty,  and  imprisoned  by  the  General  Court  for 
frequent  clamoring,  in  the  most  impudent,  insulting 
and  abusive  language,  against  the  American  Con- 
gress, the  General  Court  of  the  Colony,  and  others 
who  are  and  have  been  exerting  themselves  to  save 
the  country  from  misery  and  ruin." 

For  nearly  sixteen  months  after  the  return  of  the 
college  to  Cambridge,  the  damages  to  the  buildings 
remained  unestimated  and  unrepaired.  In  October, 
1777,  the  Overseers  appointed  a  committee  to  con- 
fer with  a  committee  of  the  General  Court  about 
the  matter;  but  now  fresh  difficulties  arose. 

Burgoyne  surrendered  at  Saratoga  on  October 
17.  His  army  was  ordered  to  Cambridge,  to  remain 
there  until  it  could  be  transported  to  Europe. 
General  Heath,  who  had  been  charged  with  the 
duty  of  providing  for  the  troops,  could  not  find 
quarters  for  them  all  in  Cambridge  and  applied 
to  the  Corporation  for  possession  of  one  or  more 
of  the  college  buildings  in  which  to  house  the  British 

85 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

officers.  He  also  made  a  similar  application  to  the 
Council  of  the  Province,  who  laid  it  before  the  Over- 
seers. The  Overseers  advised  the  Corporation  to 
consent  "  that  one  or  more  buildings  might  be  al- 
lowed to  the  said  officers,  until  they  could  be  accom- 
modated elsewhere,  upon  full  security  given  that  all 
damages  accruing  to  the  buildings,  by  fire  or  other- 
wise, should  be  repaired." 

The  Corporation  felt  that  the  Overseers  were  un- 
duly impressed  with  the  necessity  for  such  measures 
as  they  recommended,  and  consented  only  that 
"  the  house  they  had  lately  purchased  for  the  resi- 
dence of  the  students  should  be  employed  for  that 
purpose,  containing  twelve  rooms,  upon  reasonable 
terms,  if  the  object  could  not  otherwise  be  accom- 
plished." 

This  cautious  offer  did  not  satisfy  General  Heath 
at  all.  On  November  19  he  peremptorily  directed 
the  governors  of  the  college  to  remove  the  students 
and  their  possessions  as  soon  as  possible  and  to  pre- 
pare to  receive  the  officers  of  Burgoyne's  army.  The 
Overseers  again  advised  the  Corporation  to  comply 
with  his  demands.  Accordingly,  about  the  first 
of  December,  the  students  were  dismissed  and  in- 
structed not  to  return  until  the  first  Wednesday 
in  February. 

86 


THE   REVOLUTION:    HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

Nevertheless  the  Corporation  really  did  prevail 
in  the  dispute.  Burgoyne's  troops  had  arrived 
in  Cambridge  early  in  November  and  were  quar- 
tered in  barracks  on  Prospect  Hill  and  Winter  Hill. 
The  officers  had  been  lodged  in  private  houses; 
and  the  college  building  to  which  Burgoyne  himself 
and  some  of  his  staff  were  now  transferred  was  that 
house  which  the  Corporation  had  offered  —  Ap- 
thorp  House,  as  it  is  known  to-day.  The  students 
returned  at  the  beginning  of  February,  as  had  been 
appointed,  and  in  May  the  library  was  replaced 
in  Harvard  Hall  after  an  absence  of  more  than  two 
years. 

Burgoyne's  army  was  shipped  back  to  England 
in  November.  Its  presence  in  the  little  town 
of  Cambridge  had  been  a  serious  embarrassment 
to  the  college.  The  usual  public  Commencement 
had  to  be  omitted  that  year,  owing  to  "  the  want 
of  necessary  accommodations,  the  houses  being 
crowded  with  British  officers." 

In  1779  the  convention  to  frame  a  constitution 
for  Massachusetts  drew  up  three  articles  confirming 
the  ancient  rights,  privileges,  and  government  of 
Harvard  College.  This  section  in  the  constitution 
of  Massachusetts  is  entitled  "  The  University." 

Langdon  resigned  the  presidency  in  1780.  He 

87 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

had  not  been  wholly  successful;  in  a  period  over- 
shadowed by  such  grave  difficulties  no  man  could 
have  been  wholly  successful.  Langdon  had  un- 
fortunately lost  the  confidence  of  a  number  of  the 
students  and  of  some  men  connected  with  the 
government  of  the  college.  There  seems  to  have 
been  an  intrigue  against  him;  a  meeting  of  the 
three  upper  classes  was  called  and  a  memorial  to 
the  Corporation  drawn  up,  charging  Langdon  with 
"  impiety,  heterodoxy,  unfitness  for  the  office  of 
preacher  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  still  more 
for  that  of  President."  In  spite  of  the  offensively 
canting  and  hypocritical  cast  of  these  resolutions, 
they  were  passed  unanimously  —  a  fact  discredit- 
able enough  to  the  whole  undergraduate  body. 

Twelve  students  were  appointed  to  wait  upon 
Langdon  and  invite  him  to  resign.  The  interview 
took  place  on  a  Saturday;  until  he  read  the  reso- 
lutions which  were  now  presented  to  him,  he  had  been 
quite  unaware  of  the  extent  of  his  unpopularity. 
He  was  deeply  wounded.  The  following  Monday 
he  addressed  the  students  after  morning  prayers, 
announced  to  them  that  he  would  resign  in  accord- 
ance with  their  desire,  and  added  with  emotion 
that  he  and  his  family  would  then  be  thrown  desti- 
tute on  the  world.  The  students  were  moved  to 

88 


THE   REVOLUTION:    HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

some  degree  of  compassion;  the  three  upper  classes 
held  another  meeting,  rescinded  the  resolutions 
that  had  reflected  on  Langdon's  piety,  and  stated 
merely  that  they  believed  him  to  be  unfit  for  the 
office  of  president. 

Langdon's  subsequent  career  warrants  the  be- 
lief that  he  was  the  victim  in  some  measure  of 
undergraduate  caprice.  He  became  pastor  of  a 
church  near  Portsmouth,  was  chosen  in  1788  a 
delegate  to  the  state  convention,  and  played  an  in- 
fluential part  in  bringing  about  the  acceptance  of 
the  Federal  Constitution. 

The  embarrassments  of  Harvard  during  the 
Revolution  were  greatly  increased  by  the  conduct 
of  the  treasurer,  John  Hancock.  An  aristocrat  of 
wealth  and  boundless  "  patriotism,"  he  was  the 
most  popular  man  in  Massachusetts;  his  election 
to  the  office  of  treasurer  in  1773  was  thought  to  be 
a  glorious  stroke  of  policy  on  the  part  of  the  Har- 
vard authorities.  He  had  made  over  to  the  college 
five  hundred  pounds  from  his  uncle's  estate;  it 
was  well  known  that  the  elder  Hancock  had  in- 
tended to  make  this  gift  to  the  college,  but  had 
died  without  doing  it.  John  Hancock's  act  in 
carrying  out  the  expressed  desire  of  his  uncle,  whose 
entire  fortune  he  inherited,  was  extolled  in  the 

89 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

highest  terms  as  a  mark  of  rare  nobility;  the  gift 
redounded  to  the  credit  of  the  nephew  rather  than 
of  the  uncle,  and  no  condescendingly  generous  rich 
man  was  ever  bespattered  with  more  fulsome  lauda- 
tion. 

After  Hancock  had  held  the  office  of  treasurer 
for  about  a  year,  during  which  he  had  persistently 
ignored  all  its  duties,  the  Corporation  became  uneasy. 
From  November,  1774,  to  April,  1775,  through 
President  Langdon,  they  kept  entreating  him  for 
a  statement  and  settlement  of  accounts.  To  most 
of  these  appeals  he  vouchsafed  no  reply  whatever. 
When,  however,  they  deferentially  suggested  that 
he  deliver  the  books  and  papers  of  the  college  to 
a  committee,  he  showed  great  resentment  and 
practically  defied  the  Corporation  to  remove  him. 
This  they  did  not  dare  to  do;  Harvard  College 
could  not  afford  to  incur  John  Hancock's  displeasure; 
his  following  throughout  the  country  was  altogether 
too  large  and  powerful. 

In  April,  1775,  without  having  made  the  account- 
ing that  had  been  asked  for,  he  went  to  Philadelphia. 
There  he  was  elected  President  of  the  Continental 
Congress,  and  there  he  continued  to  ignore  the  ap- 
peals of  Harvard  and  Langdon's  supplications. 
At  last  the  Corporation  ventured  to  suggest  in  the 

90 


THE   REVOLUTION:     HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

most  delicate  and  flattering  way  possible  that  with 
his  vast  and  weighty  public  duties,  he  must  find 
the  office  of  treasurer  of  the  college  irksome;  but 
he  would  not  take  the  hint.  Instead,  in  May,  1776, 
he  proceeded  to  an  amazing  step;  he  had  all  the 
papers,  bonds,  and  notes  of  the  college  brought 
from  Cambridge  and  delivered  to  him  in  Phila- 
delphia. After  getting  these  safely  into  his  posses- 
sion, he  declined  more  firmly  than  ever  to  make  a 
settlement. 

The  Overseers  then  took  a  hand  in  the  matter 
and  dispatched  messages  to  him,  without  eliciting 
any  response.  After  about  six  months  of  futile 
pleading  with  him,  the  Corporation  sent  a  special 
messenger  to  Philadelphia  to  bring  back  the  papers 
and  an  accounting.  The  messenger  was  successful 
to  this  extent:  he  returned  with  bonds  and  notes 
to  the  amount  of  sixteen  thousand  pounds,  but  he 
had  been  unable  to  obtain  any  accounting  or  state- 
ment of  the  balance  that  remained  in  the  treasurer's 
hands.  In  March,  1777,  the  Overseers  advised  the 
Corporation  to  elect  another  treasurer.  This  put 
the  Corporation  into  a  great  flutter.  They  held 
three  meetings,  preparing  a  twenty-eight  page  let- 
ter to  Hancock,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  mollify 
any  resentment  that  he  might  entertain  on  account 

91 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

of  their  ungraciousness,  and  also  in  the  hope  that 
it  might  induce  him  to  resign.  This  letter  he  never 
answered.  So,  in  July,  1777,  the  Corporation 
screwed  up  their  courage  and  elected  Ebenezer 
Storer  treasurer  in  place  of  John  Hancock. 

This  action  angered  Hancock  so  much  that  the 
Corporation  were  quite  terrified.  His  political 
influence  with  the  legislature,  on  whose  bounty 
the  college  depended  for  the  support  of  its  presi- 
dent and  professors,  and  his  vindictiveness  of 
temper,  made  him  a  dangerous  person  to  af- 
front. Therefore  the  Corporation  took  steps  to 
conciliate  him.  In  January,  1778,  they  passed  a 
vote,  requesting  him  "  to  permit  his  portrait  to  be 
drawn  at  the  expense  of  the  Corporation,  and  placed 
in  the  philosophy  chamber,  by  that  of  his  uncle." 
Hancock  had  not  the  graciousness  to  reply. 

Throughout  the  year  1778  both  Overseers  and  Cor- 
poration tried  all  their  persuasive  arts  on  Hancock; 
they  wanted  to  obtain  a  settlement  from  him,  and  at 
the  same  time  not  to  give  him  further  offence.  In 
February,  1779,  they  got  to  the  point  of  threaten- 
ing to  bring  suit.  This  drew  from  Hancock  the 
announcement  that  as  soon  as  the  General  Assembly 
should  adjourn,  he  would  settle  his  accounts.  The 
General  Assembly  adjourned,  and  he  did  not  settle 

92 


THE    REVOLUTION:     HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

his  accounts.  A  motion  in  the  Board  of  Overseers  to 
bring  suit  against  him  was  rejected.  As  he  was 
in  the  height  of  his  popularity  and  power,  the  major- 
ity of  the  Board  did  not  dare  to  attack  him. 

He  was  elected  Governor  of  Massachusetts  in 
1780.  The  Corporation  continued  to  pursue  their 
pusillanimous  course  by  making  a  complimentary 
address  to  the  chief  magistrate  and  expressing  "  their 
happiness  that  a  gentleman  is  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  General  Court  and  of  the  Overseers  who  has 
given  such  substantial  evidence  of  his  love  of  letters 
and  affection  to  the  College  by  the  generous  and 
repeated  benefactions  with  which  he  hath  endowed 
it."  If  the  college  authorities  entertained  any 
expectations  that  the  governor's  conscience  would 
be  stirred  by  this  undeserved  tribute,  they  were 
disappointed.  In  March,  1781,  Hancock  took  his 
seat,  ex  officio,  as  president  of  the  Overseers,  but 
left  his  accounts  still  unsettled. 

Two  years  later  the  committee  on  Treasurer 
Storer's  accounts  had  the  hardihood  to  state  at  a 
meeting  over  which  Hancock  presided  that  "  it 
is  not  yet  known  what  sums  the  late  Treasurer  had 
received  and  paid,  his  accounts  being  still  unsettled." 
Hancock  was  silent.  Soon  after  that,  the  Overseers 
met  again,  and,  finding  that  Hancock  was  absent, 

93 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

unanimously  voted  that  at  their  next  meeting  they 
should  come  to  a  final  resolution  respecting  the 
measures  necessary  to  effect  a  settlement  of  the  late 
treasurer's  accounts.  At  the  next  meeting  Hancock 
presided,  and  nobody  ventured  to  bring  up  the 
subject. 

After  having  been  elected  governor  five  times 
in  succession,  Hancock,  in  January,  1785,  announced 
his  intention  to  resign  —  which  he  did  in  February. 
In  this  interval  he  made  a  statement  of  accounts, 
showing  that  there  was  due  from  him  to  the  college 
ten  hundred  and  fifty-four  pounds.  From  that 
time  until  Hancock's  death  in  1793,  Harvard  College 
struggled  vainly  to  get  this  money.  Some  years 
after  his  death,  his  heirs  reluctantly  discharged  the 
debt,  but  could  not  be  persuaded  to  pay  interest  on  it. 

From  the  foundation  of  the  college  to  the  year 
1707,  the  payments  from  the  public  treasury  to 
those  who  held  the  office  of  president  never  exceeded 
and  probably  never  equalled  one  hundred  pounds 
a  year.  During  Leverett's  presidency,  the  grant 
did  not  average  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  a 
year.  Wadsworth  received  four  hundred  pounds  a 
year  —  forty  pounds  from  the  rents  of  Massachu- 
setts Hall.  Holyoke  received  uncertain  annual 
grants. 

94 


Massachusetts  Hall 


THE   REVOLUTION:    HARVARD   IN   EXILE 

In  1777  the  college  funds  were  invested  in  Con- 
tinental and  state  paper,  which  continued  to  de- 
teriorate in  value,  so  that  by  1786  the  college  had 
lost  more  than  half  its  capital. 

The  damage  done  to  the  college  buildings  by  the 
American  troops  in  1775  was  estimated  at  four 
hundred  and  forty-eight  pounds;  this  sum  was  al- 
lowed and  paid  by  the  General  Court,  but  in  de- 
preciated currency  which  was  worth  exactly  one 
quarter  of  the  claim.  During  the  Revolutionary 
period,  the  president  derived  his  support  from  the 
rents  of  Massachusetts  Hall  —  now  sixty  pounds  - 
from  an  annual  grant  of  two  hundred  pounds  from 
the  General  Court,  and  from  fees;  his  total  in- 
come was  about  three  hundred  pounds.  Each  pro- 
fessor received  about  two  hundred  pounds  annually. 

The  Reverend  Joseph  Willard  was  elected  presi- 
dent in  1781.  More  than  eighteen  months  elapsed 
after  his  inauguration,  and  no  grant  was  made  either 
to  him  or  to  the  professors,  who  by  that  time  were 
in  serious  financial  difficulties.  The  Corporation 
appealed  then  to  the  legislature,  which  granted  the 
president  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  and  the 
professors  about  one  hundred  pounds  each,  but 
intimated  that  such  patronage  of  the  college  must 
soon  cease.  This  grant  by  no  means  relieved  the 

95 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

professors  from  all  financial  embarrassment;  the 
Corporation  therefore  made  loans  to  them,  in 
the  expectation  of  being  reimbursed  by  the  legis- 
lature. For  two  years  the  Corporation  continued 
to  make  loans  to  its  needy  officers;  then  the  legis- 
lature made  its  last  grant.  By  1792  the  loans 
amounted  to  three  thousand  pounds.  As  the  State 
was  then  more  prosperous,  the  Corporation  ap- 
pealed to  the  General  Court  for  indemnification. 
The  General  Court  ignored  the  appeal,  and  the 
Corporation  cancelled  the  indebtedness  of  the 
professors  and  submitted  to  the  loss.  During  all 
this  period  the  wise  judgment  of  the  treasurer, 
Ebenezer  Storer,  and  of  James  Bowdoin  and  John 
Lowell,  two  members  of  the  Corporation,  served 
Harvard  well,  and  together  with  gifts  from  with- 
out, enabled  her  to  restore  her  shattered  fortunes. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    PERIOD    OF    READJUSTMENT 

THE  success  of  the  patriot  cause  greatly  im- 
proved the  financial  standing  of  Harvard 
College.  The  funds  of  the  college  had  been  invested 
chiefly  in  Continental  and  Massachusetts  certifi- 
cates; the  life  of  the  college  had  been  virtually 
pledged  to  the  struggle  for  independence.  In 
1793  the  appreciation  in  the  securities  of  the  college 
was  such  that  its  total  endowment  amounted  to 
one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  dollars  as  con- 
trasted with  an  endowment  of  about  eighty  thou- 
sand dollars,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolutionary 
War.  By  1800  the  endowment  had  been  raised  to 
nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
The  college  no  longer  needed  to  appeal  to  the  State 
for  regular  support;  it  had  entered  upon  the  era  of 
prosperity  which  has  continued  and  increased  to  the 
present  day. 

Medical   professorships  —  the   foundation  of  the 
Medical    School  —  were  established  in  1782.     Not 

97 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

until  1814,  however,  was  any  other  special  pro- 
vision made  for  the  students  of  medicine.  .  Then 
Holden  Chapel,  which  had  already  been  put  to 
many  varied  and  temporal  uses,  was  set  apart  for 
medical  lectures;  "  and  costly  wax  preparations 
were  purchased  to  supersede  the  necessity  of  dis- 
secting human  subjects." 

The  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  which  was  founded 
at  William  and  Mary  College  in  Virginia,  was  es- 
tablished at  Harvard  in  1781.  Its  objects  were 
"  the  promotion  of  literature  and  friendly  inter- 
course among  scholars."  Worthy  as  such  a  purpose 
might  appear,  it  did  not  win  universal  commenda- 
tion, and  a  number  of  students  presented  a  petition 
to  the  authorities,  complaining  against  the  society. 
A  committee  of  Overseers,  headed  by  John  Hancock, 
proceeded  to  investigate,  and  reported  that  "  there 
is  an  institution  in  the  University,  with  the  nature 
of  which  the  Government  is  not  acquainted,  which 
tends  to  make  a  discrimination  among  the  students." 
This  report  was  not  acted  upon;  and  the  scholarly 
society  was  permitted  to  survive. 

In  1786,  to  lessen  the  expense  of  dress,  a  uniform 
was  prescribed,  the  color  and  form  of  which  were 
minutely  set  forth.  The  classes  were  distinguished 
by  means  of  frogs  on  the  cuffs  and  button-holes; 

98 


THE   PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

silk  was  prohibited,  and  home  manufactures  were 
recommended.  The  idea  was  unpopular  and  had 
to  be  enforced  with  severe  penalties;  in  1797  it  had 
become  so  obnoxious  and  difficult  of  enforcement 
that  it  was  radically  modified,  and  soon  abandoned. 

Washington  visited  the  college  in  1790;  no  pic- 
turesque account  of  the  occasion  is  preserved.  He 
received  an  address  from  the  Corporation  and  in 
reply  expressed  his  hope  that  "  the  Muses  may  long 
enjoy  a  tranquil  residence  within  the  walls  of  this 
University." 

From  1789  to  1793,  Number  8,  Hollis  Hall,  was 
occupied  by  Charles  Angier,  concerning  whom  Mr. 
John  Holmes,  the  too  little  known  brother  of  Dr. 
Holmes,  has  a  pleasing  passage: 

"  He  conceived  the  grand  idea  of  a  perpetual 
entertainment  and  a  standing  invitation.  The 
legend  says,  '  His  table  was  always  supplied  with 
wine,  brandy,  and  crackers,  of  which  his  friends 
were  at  liberty  to  partake  at  any  time.'  We  take 
upon  us,  in  the  absence  of  historical  evidence,  to 
vouch  for  the  constancy  of  Mr.  Angier's  friends. 
No  better  goal  of  pilgrimage  for  a  graduate  of  con- 
vivial turn  can  be  imagined.  The  shrine  is  gone, 
but  the  flavor  of  a  transcendent  hospitality  will 
always  pervade  Number  8." 

99 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Joseph  Story  and  William  Elleiy  Channing  were 
members  of  the  class  of  1798,  and  through  their 
eyes  we  have  been  given  a  glimpse  of  the  college 
life  of  the  time.  Amusements,  books,  resources 
were  few.  "  Two  ships  only  plied  as  regular  packets 
between  Boston  and  London,  one  in  the  spring  and 
one  in  the  autumn,  and  their  arrival  was  an  era  in 
our  college  life.  They  brought  books  and  periodi- 
cals from  England." 

The  social  life  of  the  undergraduates  was  re- 
stricted: "  different  classes  were  almost  strangers 
to  each  other.  The  students  had  no  connection 
whatever  with  the  inhabitants  of  Cambridge  by 
private  social  visits.  There  was  none  between  the 
families  of  the  president  and  professors  of  the  Col- 
lege and  the  students.  ...  A  free  and  easy  inter- 
course with  them  (the  professors)  would  have  been 
thought  somewhat  obtrusive  on  one  side  and  on  the 
other  would  have  exposed  the  student  to  the  im- 
putation of  being  what  in  technical  language  was 
called  a  '  fisherman'  -  -  a  rank  and  noxious  char- 
acter in  college  annals.  .  .  .  Invitations  to  social 
parties  in  Boston  rarely  extended  to  college  circles." 

Yet  a  little  anecdote  has  come  down  to  show  that 
the  professors  of  those  days  could  be  kindly  and 
human.  Washington  Allston,  who  was  then  an 

100 


THE   PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

undergraduate,  was  as  clever  at  mathematics  as 
he  was  with  his  pencil,  and  at  his  room  Channing 
stopped  one  day  to  get  help  on  a  problem  that 
puzzled  him.  Allston  furnished  him  with  the  solu- 
tion, and  Channing  was  so  amused  by  it  that  he 
audaciously  presented  it  at  the  recitation.  "  It 
consisted  of  pyramids  of  figures  heaped  upon  one 
another's  shoulders  in  various  attitudes,  each  of 
which  was  a  slightly  caricatured  portrait  of  the 
professors  and  tutors." 

It  is  not  quite  clear  how  even  the  accomplished 
Allston  could  give  a  portrait  value  to  mathematical 
symbols,  but  we  must  take  the  chronicler's  word  for 
it,  and  for  the  fact  that  the  professor  laughed 
heartily  over  the  caricature  and  permitted  the  class 
to  share  his  amusement. 

Channing  and  Story  were  both  members  of  the 
Speaking  Club  —  afterwards  called  the  Institute 
of  1770,  under  which  name  it  still  exists.  The  prin- 
cipal aim  of  this  society  at  that  time  was  improve- 
ment in  elocution  and  oratory.  The  members  were 
chosen  from  the  sophomore  and  junior  classes, 
twelve  or  fifteen  from  each.  They  met  in  the  evening 
"  at  some  retired  room,"  and  took  turns  in  de- 
claiming. Each  orator,  after  his  performance,  was 
subjected  to  frank  criticism. 

101 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

The  Hasty  Pudding  Club,  which  was  organized 
in  1795  with  about  twenty  members  from  the  junior 
class,  was  a  literary  society,  and  admission  to  it 
was  partly  on  a. basis  of  scholarship.  Meetings  were 
held  on  Saturday  evenings;  the  members  ate  hasty 
pudding  and  molasses  and  closed  the  exercises  by 
singing  a  hymn.  The  Porcellian  Club,  which  had 
come  into  existence  a  few  years  earlier,  was  from  the 
beginning  "  of  a  more  luxurious  and  convivial  cast." 

Story  writes  that  in  1798  "  badges  of  loyalty  to 
our  own  government  and  of  hatred  to  France  were 
everywhere  worn  in  New  England,  and  the  cockade 
was  a  signal  of  patriotic  devotion  to  '  Adams  and 
liberty.'  It  was  impossible  that  the  academical 
walls  could  escape  the  common  contagion."  One 
hundred  and  seventy  Harvard  students  —  practi- 
cally the  entire  undergraduate  body  —  offered  an 
address  to  President  Adams,  which  was  drawn  up  by 
Channing  and  began  as  follows: 

"  Sir:  We  flatter  ourselves  you  will  not  be  dis- 
pleased at  hearing  that  the  walls  of  your  native 
seminary  are  now  inhabited  by  youth  possessing 
sentiments  congenial  with  your  own."  It  ended  with 
the  solemn  offer  of  "  the  unwasted  ardor  and  un- 
impaired energies  of  our  youth  to  the  service  of  our 
country." 

102 


THE   PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

Shortly  after  composing  this  impassioned  ad- 
dress, Channing  was  chosen  to  give  at  Commence- 
ment an  oration  on  "  The  Present  Age."  The  sub- 
ject appealed  to  his  excited  soul;  but  when  the 
president  told  him  that  in  treating  it  he  must  avoid 
all  political  discussion,  Channing  felt  outraged,  and 
declared  that  under  such  conditions  he  would  de- 
liver no  oration  —  even  though  the  refusal  should 
cost  him  his  degree.  His  incensed  and  sympathetic 
classmates  applauded  his  determination. 

"  I  could  join  you,  my  friend,"  wrote  one  of  them, 
"  in  offering  an  unfeigned  tear  to  the  manes  of 
those  joys  which  are  forever  fled;  but  indignation 
has  dried  up  the  source  from  which  that  tear  must 
flow.  The  government  of  College  have  completed 
the  climax  of  their  despotism.  They  have  obtained 
an  arret,  which  from  its  features  I  could  swear  is 
the  offspring  of  the  French  Directory.  Although 
they  pretend  to  be  firm  friends  to  American  liberty 
and  independence,  their  embargo  on  politics,  which 
has  subjected  you  to  so  many  inconveniences,  is 
strong  proof  to  me  that  they  are  Jacobins,  or  at 
best  pretended  patriots,  who  have  not  courage  to 
defend  the  rights  of  their  country. 

"  William,  should  you  be  deprived  of  a  degree 
for  not  performing  at  Commencement,  every  friend 

103 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

of  liberty  must  consider  it  as  a  glorious  sacrifice 
on  the  altar  of  your  country." 

President  Willard  allowed  the  ferment  to  go  on 
for  a  fortnight;  then  he  sent  for  Channing  and  in  a 
conciliatory  spirit  made  concessions  that  were  suffi- 
cient to  placate  the  proud  young  orator.  At  the 
same  time,  Channing  was  not  permitted  to  express 
himself  as  freely  as  he  wished.  The  restriction 
weighed  so  heavily  on  him  that  towards  the  close 
of  his  oration  he  glanced  towards  President  Willard 
and  then,  turning  to  the  audience,  exclaimed:  "  But 
that  I  am  forbid,  I  could  a  tale  unfold  which  would 
harrow  up  your  souls!"  This  melodramatic  out- 
burst was  received  with  "  unbounded  applause;  " 
and  after  he  left  the  stage,  the  audience  cheered 
him  for  many  minutes. 

"  The  students  who  boarded  in  Commons,"  wrote 
Professor  Sidney  Willard  of  the  class  of  1798,  "  were 
obliged  to  go  to  the  kitchen  door  with  their  bowls 
or  pitchers  for  their  suppers,  where  they  received 
their  modicum  of  milk  or  chocolate  in  their  vessel, 
held  in  one  hand,  and  their  piece  of  bread  in  the 
other,  and  repaired  to  their  rooms  to  take  their 
solitary  repast.  There  were  suspicions  at  times  that 
the  milk  was  diluted  by  a  mixture  of  a  very  common 
tasteless  fluid,  which  led  a  sagacious  Yankee  student 

104 


THE  PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

to  put  the  matter  to  the  test  by  asking  the  simple 
carrier-boy  why  his  mother  did  not  mix  the  milk 
with  warm  water  instead  of  cold.  '  She  does,'  re- 
plied the  honest  youth.' 

There  were  more  harmful  adulterations  than 
this.  In  1791?  in  order  to  prevent  an  examination 
from  being  held,  some  students  poured  a  quantity 
of  tartar  emetic  into  the  kitchen  boilers  before 
breakfast.  Coffee  was  made  from  the  water  in 
the  boilers,  and  at  breakfast  practically  every  one 
was  taken  violently  sick.  The  conspirators  were 
sickest  of  all,  for  they  had  drunk  most  heartily, 
in  order  to  divert  suspicion  from  themselves.  One 
of  them  had  been  seen,  however,  while  committing 
his  infamous  act,  others  were  questioned  and  con- 
fessed, and  finally,  all  were  rusticated  for  several 
weeks. 

President  Willard  died  in  1804;  Samuel  Webber 
succeeded  him.  In  the  same  year  the  Boylston 
Professorship  of  Rhetoric  and  Oratory  was  es- 
tablished, and  John  Quincy  Adams  elected  the 
first  professor.  Stoughton  Hall  was  built  in  1805 
from  the  proceeds  of  the  lotteries  that  had  been 
conducted  for  a  number  of  years;  and  in  1813 
Holworthy  Hall  was  completed,  the  funds  for  it* 
having  been  raised  by  the  same  questionable  meas- 

105 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

ures.  An  article  in  a  Boston  newspaper  of  1795 
shows  to  what  insidious  practices  the  college  au- 
thorities resorted: 

"  So  great  is  the  demand  for  Tickets  in  the  2d 
Class  of  Harvard  College  Lottery  that  it  has  be- 
come doubtful  whether  there  will  be  any  to  dispose 
of,  for  several  days  previous  to  the  9th  of  April 
next,  on  which  day  the  Lottery  is  positively  to  com- 
mence drawing.  The  spirit  which  animated  the 
first  settlers  of  this  country,  to  promote  useful 
knowledge,  has,  if  possible,  encreased  with  the 
present  generations;  and  this  is  the  evidence,  That 
there  is  scarcely  a  single  one  in  the  community, 
either  male  or  female,  who  is  not  more  or  less  in- 
terested in  the  College  Lottery. 

"The  lisping  babe  cries,  '  Papa,  care  for  me, 
Pray  buy  a  Ticket  —  and  in  time  you'll  see 
The  pleasing  benefit  thy  son  will  find 
In  Learning  faithfully  to  serve  mankind.'  ' 

Holworthy  Hall  derived  its  name  from  Sir  Mat- 
thew Hoi  worthy,  who  wLh  a  bequest  of  one  thou- 
sand pounds  had  achieved  the  distinction  of  making 
the  largest  single  gift  to  Harvard  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  With  the  building  of  more  dormitories, 
the  need  of  resident  officers  to  keep  order  and  watch 
over  the  undergraduates  seemed  to  make  itself 

106 


THE   PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

felt;  and  in  1805  proctors  came  into  being.  In 
the  same  year  an  even  more  important  development 
took  place;  by  the  election  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Ware, 
a  Unitarian,  to  the  Hollis  Professorship  of  Divinity, 
Harvard  College  showed  its  sympathy  with  liberal 
theological  views  and  alienated  the  confidence  and 
support  of  the  Calvinistic  leaders.  Mr.  Ware  was 
a  methodical  gentleman;  he  had  a  sermon  for 
every  Sunday  of  the  four  college  years.  Thus  every 
undergraduate  heard  every  sermon  in  his  repertory, 
and  nobody  heard  the  same  sermon  twice.  Under 
Mr.  Ware's  leadership,  Harvard  became  a  distinct- 
ively Unitarian  college  and  did  not  alter  its  char- 
acter in  this  respect  for  more  than  half  a  century. 
The  Rev.  John  Thornton  Kirkland  succeeded 
President  Webber  in  1810.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
missionary  to  the  Oneida  Indians;  he  had  entered 
college  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  but  withdrew  the  next 
year  to  enlist  in  the  army  raised  to  suppress  Shays' 
Rebellion.  Of  President  Kirkland,  Lowell  has 
given  an  attractive  picture:  "This  life  was  good 
enough  for  him,  and  the  next  not  too  good.  The 
gentlemanlike  pervaded  even  his  prayers.  His  were 
not  the  manners  of  a  man  of  the  world,  nor  of  a 
man  of  the  other  world  either;  but  both  met  in  him 
to  balance  each  other  in  a  beautiful  equilibrium. 

107 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Praying,  he  leaned  forward  on  the  pulpit  cushion, 
as  for  conversation,  and  seemed  to  feel  himself  - 
without    irreverence  —  on    terms    of    friendly    but 
courteous  familiarity  with  heaven." 

He  was  a  plump,  cheery,  pleasant-faced  gentle- 
man. Prescott,  writing  of  the  oral  entrance  ex- 
aminations', which  terrified  him.  records  gratefully 
the  fact  that  President  Kirkland  sent  in  to  the 
candidates  a  "  good  dish  of  pears  "  and  treated 
them  "  very  much  like  gentlemen."  He  was  some- 
thing of  a  wit,  and  one  at  least  of  his  aphorisms, 
which  has  the  Johnsonian  flavor,  has  earned  its 
place  in  the  list  of  familiar  quotations:  "The  chief 
value  of  statistics  is  to  confute  other  statistics." 

Lowell  records  a  pleasant  anecdote  of  him: 
"  Hearing  that  Porter's  flip  —  which  was  exemplary 
—  had  too  great  an  attraction  for  the  collegians, 
he  resolved  to  investigate  the  matter  himself. 
Accordingly,  entering  the  old  inn  one  day,  he  called 
for  a  mug  of  it,  and  having  drunk  it,  said,  '  And  so, 
Mr.  Porter,  the  young  gentlemen  come  to  drink  your 
flip,  do  they?'  'Yes,  sir  —  sometimes.'  'Ah, 
well,  I  should  think  they  would.  Good  day,  Mr. 
Porter,'  and  departed,  saying  nothing  more;  for  he 
always  wisely  allowed  for  the  existence  of  a  certain 
amount  of  human  nature  in  ingenuous  youth." 

108 


THE   PERIOD  OF  READJUSTMENT 

There  seems  little  doubt  that  potations  among 
the  college  youths  were  both  general  and  generous. 
Lowell  tells  of  the  Harvard  Washington  Corps,  - 
the  successor  of  the  Marti-Mercurian  Band,  - 
"  whose  gyrating  banner,  inscribed  Tarn  Marti 
fjuam  Mercurio,  on  the  evening  of  training-days, 
was  an  accurate  dynamometer  of  Willard's  punch 
or  Porter's  flip.  It  was  they  who,  after  being  royally 
entertained  by  a  maiden  lady  of  the  town,  entered 
in  their  orderly  book  a  vote  that  Miss  Blank  was 
a  gentleman.  I  see  them  now,  returning  from  the 
imminent  deadly  breach  of  the  law  of  Rechab, 
unable  to  form  other  than  the  serpentine  line  of 
beauty,  while  their  officers,  brotherly  rather  than 
imperious,  instead  of  reprimanding,  tearfully  em- 
braced the  more  eccentric  wanderers  from  military 
precision." 

The  Harvard  Washington  Corps  was  composed 
of  juniors  and  seniors,  but  officered  by  seniors 
only.  To  hold  a  command  was  a  great  distinction. 
The  uniform  required  the  officers  to  appear  in 
tights,  and  the  first  question  asked  about  any  candi- 
date for  promotion  was:  "  How  is  the  man  off  for 
a  leg?" 

President  Kirkland's  administration  was  note- 
worthy not  only  for  the  building  of  Holworthy, 

100 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

University,  and  Divinity  Halls,  but  also  for  the 
founding  of  the  Law  School,  which  was  established 
in  1817.  In  spite  of  the  losses  that  the  commerce  of 
New  England  endured  during  and  after  the  War 
of  1812,  the  prosperity  of  Harvard  College  main- 
tained a  steady  growth  in  this  period.  The  salaries 
of  the  professors  were  increased;  the  grounds  sur- 
rounding the  buildings  were  planted  with  trees  and 
shrubbery;  the  place  acquired  a  greater  air  of 
dignity. 

Edward  Everett,  of  the  class  of  1811,  described 
the  Yard  as  it  was  when  he  was  a  freshman,  be- 
fore the  improvements  made  in  Kirkland's  adminis- 
tration: "  A  low,  unpainted,  board  fence  ran  along 
the  south  of  Massachusetts  and  east  of  Hollis 
and  Stoughton,  at  a  distance  of  two  or  three  rods, 
forming  an  enclosure  of  the  shabbiest  kind.  The 
College  woodyard  was  advantageously  posted  on 
the  site  of  University  Hall;  and  farther  to  the  north- 
east stretched  an  indefinite  extent  of  wild  pasture 
and  whortleberry  swamp,  the  depths  of  which  were 
rarely  penetrated  by  the  most  adventurous  fresh- 
man." Cambridgeport  was  so  bare  of  trees  and 
houses  that  from  some  windows  in  the  college  build- 
ings the  houses  on  Mount  Vernon  Street  in  Boston, 
above  what  is  now  Louisburg  Square,  could  be  seen. 

110 


U 


University  Hall 


THE   PERIOD   OF  READJUSTMENT 

Until  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  curriculum,  although  it  had  been  somewhat 
relieved  of  its  early  theological  trend,  remained  ex- 
traordinarily limited.  It  consisted  of  Latin,  Greek, 
mathematics,  English  composition,  philosophy,  the- 
ology, and  either  Hebrew  or  French,  as  the  students 
might  elect.  No  other  subjects  were  studied.  Ex- 
cept for  French,  there  was  no  opportunity  given 
the  student  to  learn  any  modern  language.  There 
was  no  instruction  in  history  or  in  economics,  in 
chemistry,  geology,  or  botany.  But  an  interest 
in  all  these  matters  was  awakening  in  America, 
and  Harvard  College  could  not  afford  to  be  back- 
ward in  meeting  it.  The  influence  of  some  pro- 
fessors who  had  studied  in  Europe  supplied  also  a 
beneficial  impetus  from  within. 

In  consequence,  the  college  was  soon  brought 
into  more  direct  relation  with  life  and  with  its  con- 
temporaneous problems,  and  the  undergraduates 
were  given  an  opportunity  to  obtain  at  least  the 
elements  of  an  education  that  was  not  aridly  classi- 
cal. But  notwithstanding  this  progress,  in  which 
Harvard  led  every  other  college  of  the  period,  edu- 
cation there  as  elsewhere  was  still  far  from  breaking 
away  from  the  classical  convention  that  had  been 
imposed  by  the  founders. 

Ill 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    MODERN    ERA 

IN  1825  the  Corporation  and  the  Overseers  passed 
a  new  code  of  laws,  under  which  the  governing 
body  was  named  the  "  Faculty  of  the  University," 
and  the  university  was  divided  into  departments. 
The  students  were  given  greater  freedom  and  a 
wider  choice  of  studies,  and  were  no  longer  required 
to  board  at  the  commons. 

This  liberalizing  of  the  college  was  largely  the 
work  of  Professor  George  Ticknor,  a  graduate  of 
Dartmouth,  who  had  studied  for  some  years  in 
Europe  and  brought  to  Cambridge  an  idea  of 
broader  culture  than  had  hitherto  existed  in  that 
community.  But  the  traditions  and  influence  of 
foreign  scholarship  which  he  represented  met  with 
opposition  from  the  other  professors,  even  from  the 
liberally  minded  president,  and  in  Ticknor's  own 
eyes  his  efforts  failed.  After  fifteen  years  of  service 
he  resigned  in  discouragement;  Harvard  seemed  to 
him  incurably  provincial.  As  one  of  his  friends  wrote: 

112 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

"  it  was  the  college  of  Boston  and  Salem,  not  of 
the  Commonwealth." 

Nevertheless,  under  Kirkland,  Ticknor  had  been 
the  pioneer;  in  the  ensuing  years,  when  the  old 
professors  dropped  off,  they  were  usually  succeeded 
by  men  who  had  studied  abroad,  and  who  shared 
Ticknor's  views. 

And  Ticknor  had  in  after  years  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  he  had  been  the  first  to  stimulate 
Prescott  in  those  studies  which  were  later  to  bring 
him  fame  as  a  historian.  The  first  part  of  Prescott's 
college  life  did  not  augur  a  brilliant  career  as  a 
scholar.  He  entered  Harvard  as  a  sophomore  in 
1811,  a  lively  and  humorous  youth  with  a  bright 
mind,  but  by  no  means  given  to  study.  He  had 
a  fondness  for  making  resolutions  and  confiding 
them  to  friends  and  acquaintances. 

"  These  resolutions  related  often  to  the  number 
of  hours,  nay,  the  number  of  minutes  per  day  to  be 
appropriated  to  each  particular  exercise  or  study;  the 
number  of  recitations  and  public  prayers  per  week 
that  he  would  not  fail  to  attend;  the  number  of  times 
per  week  that  he  would  not  exceed  in  attending  balls, 
theatrical  entertainments  in  Boston,  etc.  .  .  .  He 
would  be  sure  not  to  run  one  minute  over,  however 
he  might  sometimes  fall  short  of  the  full  time  for 

113 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

learning  a  particular  lesson,  which  he  used  to  con 
with  his  watch  before  him,  lest  by  any  inadvertence 
he  might  cheat  himself  into  too  much  study.  On 
the  same  principle  he  was  careful  never  to  attend 
any  greater  number  of  college  exercises  nor  any  less 
number  of  evening  diversions  in  Boston  than  he 
had  bargained  for  with  himself." 

In  his  junior  year,  one  day  after  dinner  at  the 
commons,  there  was  a  disturbance  just  as  he  was 
going  out  of  the  room.  He  turned  to  see  what  was 
happening  and  was  struck  in  the  eye  by  a  hard  piece 
of  bread.  The  blindness  and  the  suffering  that  he 
endured  the  rest  of  his  life  are  well  known.  The 
injury  seemed  to  sober  him  and  to  mark  a  turning 
point  in  his  character  and  in  his  habits.  His  gay 
and  humorous  spirit  did  not  forsake  him;  he  still 
gave  way  to  bursts  of  wild  merriment,  —  as  when  in 
an  amateur  rehearsal  of  "  Julius  Caesar,"  at  the 
words,  "  thou  meek  and  bleeding  piece  of  earth," 
addressed  to  the  prostrate  friend  who  took  that  part, 
he  roared  with  laughter  and  broke  up  the  perform- 
ance, —  but  he  worked  with  a  determination  that 
he  had  never  shown  before.  Mathematics  he 
could  not  grasp;  so,  for  a  time,  he  committed  to 
memory  every  prescribed  demonstration  —  every 
symbol  and  letter  —  and  gave  perfect  recitations 

114 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

daily.  This  laborious  method  became  as  irksome 
as  it  was  foolish;  he  went  to  the  professor  and  told 
him  the  truth.  He  explained  that  if  necessary  he 
was  willing  to  go  on  committing  to  memory,  but 
that  there  was  no  use  in  it,  for  he  really  could  not 
understand  the  subject  at  all,  and  that  he  thought 
he  could  employ  his  time  more  profitably.  The 
professor  good-naturedly  let  him  off  from  further 
recitations,  but  continued  to  require  his  presence 
in  the  class-room.  In  his  other  studies  Prescott 
did  so  well  that  he  was  ejected  into  Phi  Beta  Kappa, 
and  at  graduation  he  delivered  a  poem  in  Latin. 

Prescott  had  been  out  of  Harvard  three  years 
when  Emerson  entered  college.  Emerson  did  not 
cut  much  of  a  figure.  Singing  in  the  Yard  was  a 
popular  diversion;  and  early  in  his  freshman  year 
Emerson,  wishing  to  have  "a  share  in  this  amuse- 
ment, went  to  the  singing-master,  who  said  to  him: 
"  Chord." 

"  So  I  made  some  kind  of  a  noise,"  said  Emerson, 
"and  the  singing-master  said:  'That  will  do,  sir. 
You  need  not  come  again.'  ' 

The  experience  seems  to  have  been  rather  typical 
of  the  sage's  undergraduate  career.  One  of  his  class- 
mates recorded  in  his  journal:  "  I  went  to  the  chapel 
to  hear  Emerson's  dissertation;  a  very  good  one, 

115 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

but  rather  too  long  to  give  much  pleasure  to  the 
hearers."  He  was  made  class  poet,  but  only  after 
seven  others  had  been  successively  elected  and  had 
successively  declined  the  honor.  His  class  appears 
to  have  been  an  unusually  turbulent  one,  even  for 
those  roistering  days,  and  Emerson  doubtless  felt 
himself  not  in  sympathy  with  the  prevailing 
spirit. 

On  November  18,  1818,  his  classmate,  Josiah 
Quincy,  pasted  a  dry  twig  on  the  leaf  of  his  journal 
and  made  this  entry:  "  Resistance  to  tyrants  is 
obedience  to  God.  This  twig  was  my  badge;  all 
the  class  tore  them  from  the  Rebellion  Tree  and 
agreed  to  wear  them  in  their  bosoms." 

The  freshmen  and  sophomores  dined  in  two  large 
halls  separated  by  folding  doors,  which  were  usually 
locked.  One  Sunday  evening  the  doors  were  ac- 
cidentally left  open;  a  sophomore  shied  a  plate  in 
among  the  freshmen,  and  a  battle,  in  which  much 
crockery  was  smashed,  resulted.  Five  of  the  sopho- 
mores were  suspended.  The  rest  of  the  class  es- 
corted them  out  of  the  town,  cheering  them  as  they 
went,  then,  returning  to  the  college  yard,  assembled 
round  the  Rebellion  Tree. 

President  Kirkland  sent  for  the  three  ringleaders, 
—  Adams,  Otis  and  Quincy,  —  advised  them  to  leave 

116 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

town,  and  forbade  them  "  at  their  peril  "  to  return 
to  the  tree. 

So  they  promptly  went  back  to  the  tree  and 
Adams  harangued  the  crowd,  ending  as  follows: 
"  Gentlemen,  we  have  been  commanded,  at  our 
peril,  not  to  return  to  the  Rebellion  Tree;  at  our 
peril  we  do  return !  " 

There  was  immense  applause  and  the  class  voted 
to  remain  in  rebellious  session  all  day  and  absent 
themselves  from  all  college  exercises.  In  conse- 
quence, there  were  a  number  of  rustications  and  sus- 
pensions, and  after  a  while  the  rebellion  wore  itself 
out. 

A  few  notes  from  the  undergraduate  career  of 
Stephen  Salisbury,  of  the  class  of  1817,  give  an 
idea  of  the  simplicity  of  life  and  the  formality  of 
manners  of  the  period.  He  paid  six  cents  for  a  foot- 
ball. His  father  wrote  to  him:  "Your  Scates  shall 
be  sent  to  you,  but  you  must  not  scate  on  any  Ponds 
or  Rivers  nor  neglect  your  studies  for  any  Amuse- 
ments." His  mother  begged  him  to  skip  rope  in 
his  room  when  it  was  too  stormy  to  go  for  a  walk. 

At  his  Commencement,  his  parents  issued  a 
number  of  invitations  in  this  style:  "Mr.  &  Mrs. 
Stephen  Salisbury  request  the  honor  of 's  com- 
pany at  Dinner  at  the  Rooms  of  their  Son,  at  Mr. 

117 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Hearsay's,  in  Cambridge,  on  Commencement  Day." 
A  typical  reply  was  the  following:  "  With  their 
respectfull  acknowledgments  to  Mr.  &  Mrs.  Salis- 
bury, Mr.  &  Mrs.  Lincoln  regret  that  indispensable 
avocations  must  deprive  them  of  the  satisfaction 
of  participating  personally  with  Mr.  Salisbury  & 
his  friends  the  pleasures  of  a  Commencement 
which  will  place  on  the  theatre  of  the  world  their 
promising  son." 

The  commons  in  University  Hall,  conducted  by 
one  Cooley,  occasioned  much  dissatisfaction.  Thus 
an  epicure  of  the  class  of  1824  records  in  his  diary: 

"  16  Nov.  1820.  We  have  lately  had  very  bad 
commons,  but  more  especially  this  day.  I  hope 
they  will  soon  be  better.  Several  have  gone  out  to 
board. 

"  28  Nov.  At  noon  commons  we  have  a  great 
plenty  of  roast  goose.  Probably  every  one  in  the 
hall  (which  amounted  to  eight  or  ten)  might  have 
been  bought  for  a  dollar.  Indeed  I  never  saw  such 
tough,  raw-boned,  shocking,  ill-looking  animals  ever 
placed  upon  a  table.  I  hope  something  better  will 
come  on  to-morrow. 

"  29  Nov.  Commons  still  remains  very  bad. 
At  supper  the  bread  was  mere  dough;  that  is,  it 
was  not  half  baked.  I  have  not  eaten  in  commons  for 

118 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

a  week  past  one  dollar's  worth  of  anything  what- 
ever. 

"  26  June.  In  commons  Mr.  Cooley  gave  a  turtle 
soup  to  the  four  classes  to-day,  having  invited  the 
chief  of  those  who  boarded  out.  But  whether  it 
was  turtle  soup  or  not  I  am  unable  to  say,  as  I 
never  ate  any.  At  least  no  one  appeared  to  like 
it,  and,  as  for  myself,  I  never  dined  so  poorly  in  my 
life. 

"  29  June.  Mr.  Cooley  has  put  up  an  advertise- 
ment on  the  University  board,  stating  that  he  has 
now  employed  cooks  superior  to  any  in  the  United 
States.  This,  however,  is  only  to  keep  the  students 
in  commons." 

Thus  did  an  originally  sanguine,  hopeful  nature 
become  the  abode  of  cynicism  and  distrust. 

Going  to  the  theater  was  punishable  with  a 
fine  of  ten  dollars,  and  going  to  a  party  in  Boston 
made  the  student  liable  to  a  fine  of  five  dollars. 
These  penalties  seem  not  to  have  been  often 
inflicted,  but  indulgence  in  such  pleasures  in  the 
winter  months  carried  with  it  certain  hardships. 

"  The  difficulty  of  getting  a  light  with  numb  fingers 
on  a  cold  night  was  a  petty  misery  of  life,"  wrote 
Quincy.  "  In  vain  were  the  flint  and  steel  clashed 
together;  too  often  it  happened  that  no  available 

119 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

spark  was  the  result.  The  tinder,  which  we  made 
from  old  shirts,  would  absorb  dampness  in  spite 
of  all  precautions  to  keep  it  dry.  Sometimes  after 
shivering  for  half  an  hour,  during  our  efforts  to 
kindle  it,  we  were  forced  to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark 
in  a  condition  of  great  discomfort,  and  feeling  that 
we  had  purchased  our  amusement  at  an  extrava- 
gant cost." 

The  college  owned  a  little  fire-engine,  "  scarcely 
fit  to  water  a  flower  bed,"  and  the  undergraduates 
•enjoyed  the  privilege  of  trundling  out  this  machine 
whenever  there  was  an  alarm  of  fire.  The  captain 
of  the  engine  company  was  appointed  by  the  pres- 
ident, but  the  minor  offices  were  elective.  "  No 
sooner  did  the  fire  bell  ring  than  we  got  into  all 
sorts  of  horrible  and  grotesque  garments.  Hats  in 
the  last  stages  of  dilapidation  and  strange  ancestral 
coats  were  carefully  kept  for  those  occasions.  Feel- 
ing that  we  were  pretty  well  disguised  by  costume 
and  darkness,  there  seemed  nothing  to  hinder  that 
lawless  abandonment  to  a  frolic  which  is  so  delight- 
ful to  unregenerate  man  when  youthful  blood  bub- 
bles in  his  veins.  I  cannot  remember  that  we  ever 
rendered  the  slightest  assistance  in  extinguishing 
a  fire;  indeed,  there  were  so  many  good  reasons  for 
stopping  on  the  way  that  we  commonly  arrived 

120 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

after  it  was  out.  And  then,  if  we  were  tired,  we  had 
an  impudent  way  of  leaving  the  tub  upon  the  ground, 
well  knowing  that  the  government  would  send  for 
their  property  the  next  day." 

The  students  made  it  their  custom  upon  return- 
ing from  a  fire  to  regale  themselves  with  "  black- 
strap "  —  an  intoxicating  compound  in  which  rum 
and  molasses  were  the  principal  ingredients.  "  It 
finally  broke  up  the  engine  company,  and  this  was 
perhaps  the  only  good  thing  which  ever  came  of  it. 
For  matters  at  last  reached  a  crisis;  the  govern- 
ment came  to  their  senses,  sold  the  engine,  and 
broke  up  the  association.  But  to  take  the  edge  off 
the  cruelty  of  this  necessary  act,  it  was  decided 
that  the  company  should  be  allowed  a  final  meeting. 
And  so  we  celebrated  the  obsequies  of  the  old  machine 
with  an  oration  and  a  poem  —  following  up  these 
exercises  with  other  proceedings  of  which  a  detailed 
account  is  unnecessary." 

With  no  athletics  in  which  to  vent  their  energy, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  students  were  often  restless 
and  riotous.  They  entered  college  usually  at  the  age 
of  fifteen,  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Motley,  at 
the  age  of  thirteen.  Study  was  not  merely  difficult; 
it  was  attended  often  by  severe  bodily  discomfort. 
In  winter  the  college  rooms  were  wretchedly  cold. 

121 


Harrison  Gray  Otis  kept  two  lumps  of  anthracite 
on  his  mantelpiece  as  curiosities.  Not  for  many 
years  did  coal  come  into  use.  "  Our  light  came  from 
dipped  candles,  with  very  broad  bases,  and  grad- 
ually narrowing  to  the  top.  These  required  the 
constant  use  of  snuffers  —  a  circumstance  which 
hindered  application  to  an  extent  that  in  these  days 
of  kerosene  and  gas  can  scarcely  be  appreciated. 
The  dual  brain  with  which  mankind  are  furnished 
seemed  to  us  to  show  intelligent  design.  One  brain 
was  clearly  required  to  do  the  studying,  while  it 
was  the  business  of  the  other  to  watch  the  candles 
and  look  after  the  snuffers." 

The  college  owned  a  sloop,  the  Harvard,  which 
made  an  annual  voyage  to  Maine  to  bring  back 
wood  from  some  timber  lands  that  the  college  had 
there  acquired.  This  practice  continued  until  the 
eminent  mathematician,  Nathaniel  Bowditch,  de- 
monstrated to  the  authorities  that  it  would  be 
cheaper  for  them  to  buy  firewood  from  the  nearest 
and  dearest  dealer  than  to  send  their  own  sloop  to 
their  own  timber  lands  for  it. 

The  Med.  Fac.  Society,  which  was  until  a  few 
years  ago  a  celebrated  and  sometimes  a  notorious 
organization,  originated  in  Hollis  13,  in  1818.  Four 
members  of  the  class  of  1820  were  the  founders.  It 

122 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

was  from  the  beginning  devoted  to  pranks  and  mis- 
chief. "  Frequent  meetings  were  called  by  the 
President  to  carry  out  the  object  of  the  institution," 
writes  John  Holmes.  "  They  were  always  held 
in  some  student's  room  in  the  afternoon.  The  room 
was  made  as  dark  as  possible  and  brilliantly  lighted. 
The  '  Faculty '  sat  around  a  long  table  in  some 
singular  and  antique  costumes,  almost  all  in  large 
wigs  and  breeches  with  knee  buckles.  .  .  .  The 
President  wore  the  academic  square  cap,  perhaps 
of  abnormal  size.  The  table  at  which  he  presided 
was  covered  with  specimens  of  anatomy,  collected 
by  the  '  Faculty '  themselves  or  under  their  in- 
spection. The  candidate  for  membership  was  ex- 
amined with  reference  to  these."  He  was  also  made 
to  do  "  stunts "  —  obliged  to  swim  on  the  floor, 
etc.  Two  tall  ".gendarmes,"  armed  with  musket 
and  bayonet,  prodded  him  to- the  performance  of 
his  duties. 

The  Med.  Fac.  meetings  were  suppressed  in  1824, 
and  its  anatomical  collection  dispersed,  but  the  secret 
activities  of  the  society  continued  for  about  eighty 
years,  provoking  sometimes  wrath  and  sometimes 
mirth.  It  conferred  honorary  degrees  on  the  Sia- 
mese Twins,  the  Sea  Serpent,  and  Alexander  I  of 
Russia.  The  Czar,  taking  the  distinction  seriously, 

123 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

reciprocated  by  sending  a  very  fine  case  of  surgical 
instruments,  which  was  appropriated  by  the  Corpora- 
tion for  the  use  of  the  medical  professors.  An  old 
catalogue  of  the  society  names  the  professorships 
bestowed  on  its  members  —  Professorships  Bugo- 
logiae,  Craniologiae,  Vitae  et  Mortis,  and  Intelli- 
gentiae  Generalis  being  among  them. 

Another  convivial  organization  of  this  period  was 
the  Navy  Club.  In  the  spring  its  marquee,  "  the 
good  ship  Harvard,"  was  erected  near  Divinity 
Hall;  the  floor  was  divided  into  a  quarter  and  a 
main  deck,  each  under  the  command  of  an  admiral. 
At  the  boatswain's  whistle,  the  club  was  accustomed 
to  form  in  line  in  front  of  Holworthy  and  proceed 
to  its  "  ship,"  where  it  was  understood  to  indulge 
in  some  very  peculiar  naval  manoeuvres. 

The  class  of  1821 — the  boisterous  class  which 
had  made  Emerson  their  eighth  choice  as  poet  — 
marched  on  their  graduating  day  to  Porter's  Tav- 
ern, where  they  sat  down  at  two  o'clock  to  "  a  fine 
dinner."  Caleb  Gushing  gave  for  a  toast:  "The 
bonds  of  friendship,  which  always  tighten  when 
they  are  wet."  After  this  inspired  sentiment  the 
feast  waxed  merry.  "  When  we  had  all  drunk  our 
skins  full,  we  marched  round  to  all  the  professors' 
houses,  danced  round  the  Rebellion  and  Liberty 

124 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

Trees,  and  then  returned  to  the  hall.  A  great  many 
of  the  class  were  half-seas  over,  and  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  supporting  one  of  them.  This  was  as  hard 
work  as  I  ever  desire  to  do.  Many  ladies  came 
to  witness  our  dancing  and  were  much  scandalized 
by  the  elevation  of  spirit  which  some  exhibited. 
We  parted  with  more  grief  than  any  class  I  ever 
saw,  every  one  of  us  being  drowned  in  tears." 

In  President  Kirkland's  administration  under- 
graduates were  required  to  wear  a  uniform  of  black. 
In  1829  a  concession  was  made;  the  waistcoat  had 
to  be  either  black  or  white.  Charles  Sumner  per- 
sisted in  wearing  one  of  buff  color  and  was  dis- 
ciplined several  times  for  this  disobedience;  he 
insisted  that  it  was  nearly  white  enough  to  come 
under  the  rule,  and  at  last  the  Parietal  Board 
yielded  to  him  in  the  controversy.  Seventeen  years 
later,  when  he  delivered  his  oration  before  the  Phi 
Beta  Kappa,  he  wore  a  buff  waistcoat.  Sumner's 
college  bills,  including  tuition,  rent,  and  care  of 
room,  fuel,  books,  and  fees,  amounted  to  'about 
eight  hundred  dollars  for  four  years.  Two  hundred 
dollars  a  year  probably  represented  the  average  scale 
of  expenditure  among  the  students  of  the  period. 

Rebellions  were  of  frequent  occurrence;  in  April, 
1823,  there  was  a  curious  uprising  among  the  seniors. 

125 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

The  names  are  shrouded  in  mystery,  but  this  is 
the  story:  X.  was  about  to  graduate  at  the  head 
of  the  class.  Z.  was  believed  —  on  what  grounds 
does  not  appear  —  to  have  told  the  faculty  that 
X.,  who  was  a  student  receiving  college  aid,  had 
spent  in  dissipation  the  funds  that  had  been  be- 
stowed on  him.  X.,  on  being  questioned,  denied 
this,  but  the  authorities  deprived  him  of  further 
pecuniary  assistance  and  of  all  academic  honors. 
The  class,  indignant  and  sympathizing  with  X., 
hissed  Z.  on  his  appearance  in  chapel.  On  account 
of  this  demonstration,  X.,  though  he  had  not  pro- 
moted it  in  any  way,  was  expelled.  The  next  day, 
when  Z.  appeared  in  chapel,  his  classmates  rushed 
upon  him  and  threw  him  out.  They  did  this  on  two 
succeeding  occasions;  then  Z.  found  it  advisable 
to  withdraw  from  Cambridge.  But  because  of  their 
disorderly  and  indignant  proceedings,  thirty-seven 
seniors  were  expelled.  Twenty  years  later  they 
were  granted  their  degrees. 

Class  Day  was  celebrated  very  informally.  Thus 
George  Whitney,  of  the  class  of  1824,  wrote  in 
his  diary:  "Tuesday,  13  July.  We  part  to-day. 
After  Commons,  according  to  previous  appoint- 
ment we  had  a  good  prayer  from  Burnap  in  the 
Senior  Hall.  We  spent  an  hour  or  two  after  this  in 

126 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  MODERN  ERA 

calling  on  each  other  and  bidding  good-by  to  many 
who  would  not  even  meet  us  at  Commencement. 
At  half-past  ten  the  class  went  in  procession  to  the 
Chapel  and  heard  a  very  beautiful  valedictory 
oration  from  Newell  and  poem  from  George  Lunt." 

Whitney  attended  the  Class  Day  exercises  in 
1829,  when  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  read  the  poem. 
"  He  is  both  young  and  small  in  distinction  from 
most  others,"  Whitney  wrote,  "  and  on  these  cir- 
cumstances he  contrived  to  cut  some  good  jokes. 
His  poem  was  very  happy  and  abounded  in  wit. 
Instead  of  a  spiritual  muse,  he  invoked  for  his 
goddess  the  ladies  present  and  in  so  doing  he  sang 
very  amusingly  of  '  his  hapless  amour  with  too  tall 
a  maid.'  " 

In  1824  Lafayette  visited  Harvard.  The  streets 
were  decorated,  he  passed  under  triumphal  arches 
on  his  way  from  Boston,  and  the  crowds  gave  him 
such  an  ovation  that  he  was  several  hours  late  when 
he  at  last  arrived  at  the  college.  President  Kirk- 
land  met  him  at  the  gate.  When  Edward  Everett 
in  his  oration  spoke  of  "  the  noble  conduct  of  our 
guest  in  procuring  a  ship  for  his  own  transportation, 
at  a  time  when  all  America  was  too  poor  to  offer 
him  a  passage  to  her  shores,"  he  moved  the  audience 
to  tears. 

127 


CHAPTER   IX 

HARVARD    UNDER    QUINCY 

KIRKLAND  resigned  the  presidency  in  1829 
on  account  of  ill  health,  and  was  succeeded  by 
Josiah  Quincy,  who  had  been  for  three  terms  mayor 
of  Boston.  In  Quincy's  able  and  progressive  admin- 
istration, the  Law  School  was  reorganized  and  given  a 
home  of  its  own,  —  in  Dane  Hall,  —  and  the  Astro- 
nomical Observatory  was  established.  But  perhaps 
Quincy's  most  important  service  to  Harvard  was  in 
repressing  the  spirit  and  habit  of  lawlessness  which 
his  lenient  predecessors  had  too  long  tolerated.  At 
this  day  it  seems  strange  that  the  president  of  the 
college  should  have  felt  compelled  to  assert  that 
students  should  be  held  amenable  to  civil  authority 
for  offences  against  the  law,  "  even  though  committed 
within  academic  precincts." 

But  we  have  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Andrew  P. 
Peabody,  then  a  tutor  in  Harvard:  "  The  habits  of 
the  students  were  rude,  and  outrages  involving  not 
only  large  destruction  of  property,  but  peril  of  life  — 

128 


HARVARD  UNDER  QUINCY 

as,  for  instance,  the  blowing  up  of  public  rooms  in 
inhabited  buildings  —  were  occurring  every  year. 
Mr.  Quincy  was  sustained  by  the  Governing  Boards, 
but  encountered  an  untold  amount  of  hostility  and 
obloquy  from  the  students,  their  friends,  and  the 
outside  public.  He  persevered,  and  gradually  won 
over  the  best  public  opinion  to  his  view.  While  the 
detestable  practice  of  hazing  was  rife,  crimes  that 
were  worthy  of  the  penitentiary  were  of  frequent 
occurrence,  resulting  in  some  cases  in  driving  a 
persecuted  freshman  from  college;  in  many  in- 
stances, in  serious  and  lasting  injury;  and  once,  at 
least,  in  fatal  illness.  The  usual  college  penalty 
punished  the  parents  alone.  The  suspended  student 
was  escorted  in  triumph  on  his  departure  and  his 
return,  and  was  the  hero  of  his  class  for  the  residue 
of  his  college  life." 

The  Great  Rebellion,  as  the  undergraduate  revolt 
of  1834  was  called,  illustrated  the  disorderly  tend- 
encies with  which  Quincy  had  to  cope.  It  began  on 
May  19;  a  freshman,  a  Southerner,  refused  to  re- 
cite in  Greek  when  called  on  by  the  instructor,  one 
Dunkin.  He  not  only  refused  to  recite;  he  was  in- 
solent. President  Quincy  summoned  him  and  told 
him  that  he  must  apologize.  The  young  Southerner 
declared  that  he  would  rather  withdraw  from  the 

129 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

university;  Quincy  gave  him  the  opportunity  to 
make  that  choice,  and  he  withdrew.  As  he  had 
been  well  liked  by  upper  classmen  as  well  as  by 
freshmen,  a  popular  movement  to  avenge  him  was 
set  on  foot.  Mobs  tore  Dunkin's  room  to  pieces, 
smashed  his  furniture,  and  broke  his  windows.  They 
set  off  torpedoes  in  chapel  and  promoted  an  almost 
continuous  disorder  in  recitations.  Finally  all  the 
sophomores  but  three  went  on  strike  and  were  sent 
home.  The  juniors  wore  crape  on  their  left  arms 
and  burned  Quincy  in  effigy.  Rioting  was  inces- 
sant, the  breaking  of  windows  and  the  smashing  of 
furniture  continued.  Legal  proceedings  for  assault 
and  trespass  were  brought  against  some  of  the  ring- 
leaders. For  the  eight  weeks  from  the  iQth  of  May 
to  the  end  of  the  college  year,  the  university  work 
was  practically  discontinued,  "  the  students  being 
occupied  with  their  various  class  meetings  and  the 
instructors  attending  the  frequent  sessions  of  the 
Faculty."  In  after  years  many  of  those  who  were 
suspended  for  their  foolishness  received  their  de- 
grees. 

President  Quincy  was  abrupt  and  rather  harsh 
in  manner  and  seldom  remembered  a  student's 
name.  But  his  feeling  towards  the  undergradu- 
ates was  kindly,  and  he  took  endless  pains,  even  in 

130 


HARVARD   UNDER  QUINCY 

small  details,  to  improve  their  conditions.  He  com- 
pelled the  contractor  of  the  commons  to  furnish 
better  food;  he  even  imported  tableware,  porcelain, 
and  silver,  stamped  with  the  college  arms,  for  use 
in  the  commons.  He  was  cordial  and  hospitable 
in  welcoming  the  students  to  his  house;  his  popu- 
larity increased  as  the  students  came  to  know  him. 
When  Andrew  Jackson  visited  the  college,  Presi- 
dent Quincy  was  much  distressed  at  having  to  con- 
fer the  degree  of  LL.  D.  on  him;  indeed  all  the  fac- 
ulty abhorred  Jackson.  "  Preparations  for  a  public 
funeral  —  certainly  for  his  —  could  not  have  been 
made  less  cheerfully  than  ours  for  his  welcome," 
writes  Dr.  Peabody.  However,  the  affair  went  off 
not  so  badly;  the  first  scholar  of  the  class  delivered 
a  Latin  address;  President  Quincy  conferred  the 
degree  in  elegant  Latin;  the  general  replied,  "  prob- 
ably in  English,"  but  in  so  low  a  tone  that  no  one 
could  hear  what  he  said;  and  he  was  then  escorted 
to  the  president's  house,  to  a  reception.  "  His  whole 
bearing,  in  the  Chapel  and  in  the  drawing-room,  by 
its  blended  majesty  and  benignity,  won  for  the  time 
the  reverence  and  admiration  of  all  who  saw  him." 
The  qualifying  clause  suggests  that  Dr.  Peabody 
certainly  and  President  Quincy  probably  reverted 
to  their  original  views  of  Old  Hickory. 

131 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Dr.  John  Snelling  Popkin  was  the  professor  of 
Greek  under  Quincy.  "  Who  that  ever  saw  him," 
writes  Lowell,  "  can  forget  him,  in  his  old  age,  like 
a  lusty  winter,  frosty  but  kindly,  with  great  silver 
spectacles  of  the  heroic  period,  such  as  scarce  twelve 
noses  of  these  degenerate  days  could  bear?  .  .  . 
The  son  of  an  officer  of  distinction  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  he  mounted  the  pulpit  with  the  erect 
port  of  a  soldier  and  carried  his  cane  more  in  the 
fashion  of  a  weapon  than  a  staff,  but  with  the  point 
lowered,  in  token  of  surrender  to  the  peaceful  pro- 
prieties of  his  calling.  Yet  sometimes  the  martial 
instincts  would  burst  the  cerements  of  black  coat 
and  clerical  neck-cloth,  as  once,  when  the  students 
had  got  into  a  fight  upon  the  training-field,  and  the 
licentious  soldiery,  furious  with  rum,  had  driven 
them  at  point  of  bayonet  to  the  college  gates,  and 
even  threatened  to  lift  their  arms  against  the  Muses' 
bower.  Then,  like  Major  Goffe  at  Deerfield,  sud- 
denly appeared  the  gray-haired  professor,  all  his 
father  resurgent  in  him,  and  shouted:  'Now,  my 
lads,  stand  your  ground,  you're  in  the  right  now! 
Don't  let  one  of  them  set  foot  within  the  College 
grounds!  ' 

He  liked  to  smoke,  but  "  knowing  that  the  ani- 
mal appetites  ever  hold  one  hand  behind  them  for 

132 


Holworthy  Hall 


HARVARD   UNDER  QUINCY 

Satan  to  drop  a  bribe  in,"  he  would  never  have  two 
cigars  in  his  rooms  at  once,  but  walked  daily  to  the 
tobacconist's  to  purchase  his  single  article  of  dissi- 
pation. "  Nor  would  he  trust  himself  with  two  on 
Saturdays,  preferring  (since  he  could  not  violate 
the  Sabbath  even  by  that  infinitesimal  traffic)  to 
depend  on  Providential  ravens,  which  were  seldom 
wanting  in  the  shape  of  some  black-coated  friend 
who  knew  his  need  and  honored  the  scruple  that 
occasioned  it." 

For  many  years  he  lived  on  the  second  floor  of 
Holworthy,  "  the  venerable  Goody  Morse  cooking 
his  food,  bringing  it  to  him  at  the  regular  college 
hours,  and  taking  the  most  assiduous  care  for  his 
comfort."  But  finally,  when  he  had  to  provide  a 
home  in  Cambridge  for  a  widowed  sister  and  two 
nieces,  he  abandoned  his  comfortable  bachelor's 
lodgings,  and  took  a  house  next  door  to  a  classmate 
and  lifelong  friend.  The  two  men  used  to  hold  long 
conversations  over  the  dividing  fence,  but  neither 
of  them  ever  entered  the  other's  house.  Dr.  Pea- 
body  dwells  on  Popkin  affectionately  in  his  remi- 
niscences: 

"  In  his  recitation  room  Dr.  Popkin  sat  by  a  table 
rather  than  behind  it,  and  grasped  his  right  leg, 
generally  with  both  hands,  lifting  it  as  if  he  were 

133 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

making  attempts  to  shoulder  it,  and  more  nearly 
accomplishing  that  feat  daily  than  an  ordinary 
gymnast  would  after  a  year's  special  training.  As 
chairman  of  the  parietal  government,  he  regarded 
it  as  his  official  duty  to  preserve  order  in  the  college 
yard;  but  he  was  the  frequent  cause  of  disorder, 
for  nothing  so  amused  the  students  as  to  see  him  in 
full  chase  after  an  offender  or  dancing  round  a 
bonfire;  while  it  was  well  understood  that  as  a  de- 
tective he  was  almost  always  at  fault.  .  .  .  Yet 
the  students  held  him  in  reverence  and  at  the  same 
time  liked  him.  His  were  the  only  windows  of 
parietal  officers  that  were  never  broken." 

Although  showing  him  this  distinguished  consider- 
ation, the  undergraduates  made  him  at  times  the 
victim  of  rude  practical  jokes.  "  Once  while  Dr. 
Popkin  was  groping  on  the  floor  in  quest  of  smothered 
fire,  in  a  room  that  had  been  shattered  by  an  ex- 
plosion of  gunpowder,  a  bucket  of  water  was  thrown 
on  him."  The  students  might  take  liberties  with 
him,  but  he  stood  on  his  dignity  with  others;  on 
overhearing  a  young  man  "  of  jaunty,  dapper,  un- 
academic  aspect  "  utter  his  nickname,  he  exclaimed: 
"  What  right  have  you,  sir,  to  call  me  Old  Pop? 
You  were  never  a  member  of  Harvard  College." 

Dr.  Jonathan  Barber  was  the  instructor  in  elo- 
134 


HARVARD  UNDER  QUINCY 

cution.  "  His  great  glory  was  the  invention  of  a 
hollow  sphere,  six  feet  in  diameter,  made  of  some 
six  or  eight  bamboo  rods,  which  were  its  meridians, 
and  were  crossed  by  an  equator,  by  at  least  two 
great  circles  besides,  and  by  an  adequate  number  of 
small  circles  corresponding  to  parallels  of  latitude. 
In  this  sphere  the  students  stood  to  declaim,  and 
the  circles  by  their  various  altitudes  and  intersec- 
tions determined  the  gestures  appropriate  to  each 
specific  mood  of  feeling  or  form  of  mental  action." 
The  merits  of  the  contrivance  were  not  appreciated; 
it  was  discovered  one  morning  suspended  from  a 
barber's  pole,  and  shortly  after  that  affront  Dr. 
Barber  abandoned  his  college  work  in  elocution  and 
went  about  the  country  lecturing  on  phrenology. 
The  barber's  pole  was  that  in  front  of  the  shop  that 
Lowell  remembered  so  pleasantly: 

"  The  barber's  shop  was  a  museum,  scarce  second 
to  the  larger  one  of  Greenwood  in  the  metropolis. 
The  boy  who  was  to  be  clipped  there  was  always 
accompanied  to  the  sacrifice  by  troops  of  friends, 
who  thus  inspected  the  curiosities  gratis.  While  the 
watchful  eye  of  R.  wandered  to  keep  in  check  these 
rather  unscrupulous  explorers,  the  unpausing  shears 
would  sometimes  overstep  the  boundaries  of  strict 
tonsorial  prescription,  and  make  a  notch  through 

135 


which  the  phrenological  developments  could  be 
distinctly  seen.  As  Michael  Angelo's  design  was 
modified  by  the  shape  of  his  block,  so  R.,  rigid  in 
artistic  proprieties,  would  contrive  to  give  an  ap- 
pearance of  design  to  this  aberration  by  making  it 
the  key-note  to  his  work,  and  reducing  the  whole 
head  to  an  appearance  of  premature  baldness.  What 
a  charming  place  it  was,  —  how  full  of  wonder  and 
delight!  The  sunny  little  room,  fronting  southwest 
upon  the  Common,  rang  with  canaries  and  Java 
sparrows,  nor  were  the  familiar  notes  of  robin,  thrush 
and  bobolink  wanting.  A  large  white  cockatoo 
harangued  vaguely,  at  intervals,  in  what  we  be- 
lieved (on  R.'s  authority)  to  be  the  Hottentot  lan- 
guage." 

Dr.  Peabody  has  left  a  picturesque  account  of 
the  student's  manner  of  life  at  this  period: 

"  The  feather  bed  —  mattresses  not  having  come 
into  general  use  —  was  regarded  as  a  valuable  chat- 
tel; but  ten  dollars  would  have  been  a  fair  auction 
price  for  all  the  other  contents  of  an  average  room, 
which  were  a  pine  bedstead,  washstand,  table,  and 
desk,  a  cheap  rocking-chair  and  from  two  to  four 
other  chairs  of  the  plainest  fashion.  I  doubt  whether 
any  fellow  student  of  mine  owned  a  carpet.  A 
second-hand  furniture  dealer  had  a  few  defaced  and 

136 


HARVARD  UNDER  QUINCY 

threadbare  carpets,  which  he  leased  at  an  extrava- 
gant price  to  certain  Southern  members  of  the 
Senior  class;  but  even  Southerners,  though  reputed 
to  be  fabulously  rich,  did  not  aspire  to  this  luxury 
till  the  Senior  year.  Coal  was  just  coming  into  use, 
and  hardly  found  its  way  into  the  college.  The 
students'  rooms  —  several  of  the  recitation  rooms 
as  well  —  were  heated  by  open  wood-fires.  Almost 
every  room  had,  too,  among  its  trans mittenda  a  can- 
non-ball supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  the 
arsenal,  which  on  very  cold  days  was  heated  to  a  red 
heat  and  placed  as  calorific  radiant  on  a  skillet  or 
on  some  extemporized  metallic  stand;  while  at 
other  seasons  it  was  often  utilized  by  being  rolled 
downstairs  at  such  time  as  might  most  nearly  bisect 
a  proctor's  night-sleep.  Friction-matches  —  accord- 
ing to  Faraday  the  most  useful  invention  of  our 
age  —  were  not  yet.  Coals  were  carefully  buried 
in  ashes  over  night  to  start  the  morning  fire;  while 
in  summer  the  evening  lamp  could  be  lighted  only 
by  the  awkward  and  often  baffling  process  of  stri- 
king fire  with  flint,  steel,  and  tinder  box. 

"  The  student's  life  was  hard.  Morning  prayers 
were  in  summer  at  six;  in  winter,  about  half  an. 
hour  before  sunrise  in  a  bitterly  cold  chapel.  Thence 
half  of  each  class  passed  into  the  several  recitation 

137 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

rooms  in  the  same  building  —  University  Hall  — 
and  three  quarters  of  an  hour  later  the  bell  rang  for 
a  second  set  of  recitations,  including  the  remaining 
half  of  the  students.  Then  came  breakfast,  which 
in  the  College  commons  consisted  solely  of  coffee, 
hot  rolls,  and  butter,  except  when  the  members  of  a 
mess  had  succeeded  in  pinning  to  the  nether  surface 
of  the  table,  by  a  two-pronged  fork,  some  slices  of 
meat  from  the  previous  day's  dinner.  Between  ten 
and  twelve  every  student  attended  another  recita- 
tion or  a  lecture.  Dinner  was  at  half-past  twelve,  — 
a  meal  not  deficient  in  quantity,  but  by  no  means 
appetizing  to  those  who  had  come  from  neat  homes 
and  well  ordered  tables.  There  was  another  recita- 
tion in  the  afternoon,  except  on  Saturday;  then 
evening  prayers  at  six,  or  in  winter  at  early  twi- 
light; then  the  evening  meal,  plain  as  the  breakfast, 
with  tea  instead  of  coffee,  and  cold  bread,  of  the 
consistency  of  wool,  for  the  hot  rolls.  After  tea 
the  dormitories  rang  with  song  and  merriment  till 
the  study  bell,  at  eight  in  winter,  at  nine  in 
summer,  sounded  the  curfew  for  fun  and  frolic, 
proclaiming  dead  silence  throughout  the  college 
premises. 

"  On  Sundays  all  were  required  to  be  in  residence, 
not   excepting    even   those   whose    homes    were   in 

138 


Boston;  and  all  were  required  to  attend  worship 
twice  each  day  at  the  college  chapel.  On  Saturday 
alone  was  there  permission  to  leave  Cambridge, 
absence  from  town  at  any  other  time  being  a  punish- 
able offence.  This  weekly  liberty  was  taken  by 
almost  every  member  of  college,  Boston  being  the 
universal  resort;  though  seldom  otherwise  than  on 
foot,  the  only  public  conveyance  then  being  a  two- 
horse  stage-coach,  which  ran  twice  a  day." 

Commons,  which  had  occupied  rooms  in  Harvard 
Hall,  were  transferred  in  1815  to  University.  In 
Harvard  Hall,  officers  and  graduates  sat  at  a  table 
on  a  dais  at  the  head  of  each  room;  seniors  and 
sophomores  occupied  the  main  floor  of  one  room, 
juniors  and  freshmen  the  main  floor  of  the  other. 
"  By  this  arrangement  each  pair  of  adjacent  classes, 
always  supposed  to  hold  relations  of  mutual  an- 
tagonism, were  fed  apart,  and  had  different  doors  of 
entrance  and  egress."  The  kitchen  in  the  basement 
of  University  was  the  largest  in  New  England,  and 
an  object  of  curiosity  and  interest  to  visitors.  '  The 
students  felt  in  large  part  remunerated  for  coarse  fare 
and  rude  service  by  their  connection  with  a  feeding 
place  that  possessed  what  seemed  to  them  world-wide 
celebrity.  They  were  not  the  only  dependents 
upon  the  college  kitchen,  but  shared  its  viands  with 

139 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

a  half-score  or  more  of  swine,  whose  sties  were  close 
in  the  rear  of  the  building,  and  with  rats  of  abnormal 
size  that  had  free  quarters  with  the  pigs." 

Two  or  three  of  the  professors  took  in  boarders 
at  three  dollars  a  week  —  wealthy  Southerners  pre- 
sumably. These  boarders  were  objects  of  suspicion 
to  their  classmates;  if  one  of  them  received  any 
college  honor,  "  it  was  uniformly  ascribed  to  undue 
influence,  catered  for  on  the  one  side  and  exerted 
on  the  other,  in  consequence  of  this  domestic  ar- 
rangement." 

The  students  were  invariably  hostile  to  the 
faculty.  "  If  a  student  went  unsummoned  to  a 
teacher's  room,  it  was  almost  always  by  night. 
It  was  regarded  as  a  high  crime  by  his  class  for  a 
student  to  enter  a  recitation  room  before  the  ringing 
of  the  bell,  or  to  remain  to  ask  a  question  of  the 
instructor;  and  even  one  who  was  uniformly  first 
in  the  class-room  would  have  had  his  way  to  Coven- 
try made  easy.  In  case  of  a  general  disturbance, 
the  entire  Faculty  were  on  the  chase  for  offenders 
—  a  chase  seldom  successful;  while  their  unskilled 
manoeuvres  in  this  uncongenial  service  were  wont 
to  elicit,  not  so  much  silent  admiration,  as  shouts  of 
laughter  and  applause. 

"  The  recitations  were  mere  hearings  of  lessons, 
140 


HARVARD   UNDER  QUINCY 

without  comment  or  collateral  instruction.  They 
were  generally  heard  in  quarter  sections  of  a  class, 
the  entire  class  containing  from  fifty  to  sixty  mem- 
bers. The  custom  was  to  call  on  every  student  in 
the  section  at  every  recitation." 

At  this  time  the  college  yard  was  unenclosed  and 
extended  only  a  few  feet  behind  University  Hall  - 
only  far  enough  in  fact  to  afford  quarters  for  the 
pigs.  The  chapel  exercises  were  held  in  University 
Hall,  and  at  them  as  at  the  commons,  seniors  and 
sophomores  were  kept  apart  from  juniors  and  fresh- 
men. In  front  of  the  pulpit  was  a  stage,  for  the 
chapel  room  was  also  the  room  for  public  declama- 
tions and  exhibitions.  At  daily  prayers  a  professor 
kept  watch  over  the  congregation  from  a  sort  of 
raised  sentry  box  and  noted  down  the  name  of  any 
one  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor. 

The  entrance  examinations  —  all  oral  —  began 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  lasted  all  day,  with 
but  a  half-hour  intermission  for  luncheon.  "  Each 
of  the  thirteen  College  officers  took  a  section  and 
passed  it  to  the  next,  and  so  on  until  it  had  gone  the 
entire  round."  It  may  well  be  believed  that  this 
matriculation  day  was  not  a  time  of  festivities; 
but  it  was  far  otherwise  with  Commencement  Day. 

"  The  entire  Common,  then  an  unenclosed  dust 
141 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

plain,  was  completely  covered  on  Commencement 
Day  and  the  night  preceding  and  following  it  with 
drinking  stands,  dancing  booths,  mountebank  shows 
and  gambling  tables;  and  I  have  never  heard  such 
a  horrid  din,  tumult,  and  jargon  of  oath,  shout, 
scream,  fiddle,  quarrelling  and  drunkenness  as  on 
those  two  nights.  By  such  summary  methods  as  but 
few  other  men  could  have  employed,  Mr.  Quincy 
at  the  outset  of  his  presidency  swept  the  Common 
clear;  and  during  his  entire  administration  the 
public  days  of  the  College  were  kept  free  from  rowdy- 
ism. .  .  . 

"  Pious  citizens  of  Boston  [before  1776]  used  to  send 
their  slaves  to  Commencement  for  their  religious  in- 
struction and  edification.  But  the  negroes  soon  found 
that  they  could  spend  their  holidays  more  to  their 
satisfaction,  if  not  more  to  the  good  of  their  souls, 
on  the  outside  than  in  the  interior  of  the  meeting- 
house. At  length  Commencement  came  to  be  the 
great  gala  day  of  the  year  for  the  colored  people 
in  and  about  Boston,  who  were  by  no  means  such 
quiet  and  orderly  citizens  as  their  representatives 
now  are,  while  their  comparative  number  was  much 
greater." 

In  1836  the  Rev.  John  Pierce  entered  this  observa- 
tion in  his  diary:  "  Be  it  noted  that  this  is  the  first 

142 


HARVARD   UNDER   QUINCY 

Commencement  I  ever  attended  in  Cambridge  in 
which  I  saw  not  a  single  person  drunk  in  the  Hall 
or  out  of  it.  ...  There  were  the  fewest  present  I 
ever  remember." 

Class  Day,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  had  only  a 
few  years  before  been  a  day  of  innocent  literary 
exercises,  had  also  become  an  occasion  for  disorderly 
revelry.  The  class  of  1834  treated  all  comers  to 
iced  punch.  "  In  1836,"  writes  Lowell,  "  the 
College  janitor,  in  vain  protesting,  yet  not  without 
hilarious  collusion  on  his  own  part,  was  borne  in 
wavering  triumph  on  a  door,  the  chance-selected 
symbol  of  his  office."  Of  these  first  Class  Day 
orgies,  Lowell  writes:  "  Crowds  gathered  to  witness 
these  anarchic  ceremonies.  The  windows  which 
commanded  the  scene  were  bursting  with  heads, 
and  in  as  much  request  as  formerly  those  which  gave 
a  near  view  of  the  ghastly  tree  at  Tyburn." 

But  in  1838,  the  year  when  Lowell  was  rusticating 
at  Concord  and  so  was  unable  to  read  his  class  poem, 
there  was  a  reform;  from  that  time  on  drunkenness 
ceased  to  be  the  most  distinguishing  feature  of 
Class  Day.  For  a  number  of  years  each  class  planted 
an  ivy  shoot  on  Class  Day,  and  the  orator  delivered 
his  oration  over  it.  But  as  the  ivy  always  died, 
the  custom  of  planting  it  was  abandoned  altogether; 

143 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

and  the  Ivy  Oration,  though  not  discontinued,  ac- 
quired what  was  in  the  circumstances  an  appro- 
priately humorous  character,  and  was  assigned  to  the 
reputed  wit  of  the  class. 

The  long  vacation  was  in  the  winter,  and  con- 
tinued to  be  until  1869.  Professor  Ticknor  in  1825 
wrote:  "The  longest  vacation  should  happen  in 
the  hot  season,  when  insubordination  and  miscon- 
duct are  now  most  frequent,  partly  from  the  in- 
dolence produced  by  the  season.  There  is  a  reason 
against  this,  I  know  —  the  poverty  of  many  students 
who  keep  school  for  a  part  of  their  subsistence." 

One  of  the  greatest  hot  weather  excitements  oc- 
curred in  August,  1834.  A  Protestant  mob  had 
burned  down  a  Roman  Catholic  chapel  in  Charles- 
town.  The  rumor  spread  through  Cambridge  that 
in  retaliation  the  Papists  meant  to  set  fire  to 
the  Harvard  Library.  Students  and  graduates 
gathered  to  defend  it,  and  sentinels  stationed  them- 
selves with  muskets  at  the  windows.  Night  came 
on,  and  a  horseman  galloped  up  to  announce  that 
one  thousand  armed  Irishmen  were  marching  to 
Cambridge.  Excitement  and  precautions  were  re- 
doubled —  but  it  was  no  doubt  the  horseman's 
little  joke;  the  column  of  armed  and  angered  Fenians 
never  appeared. 

144 


HARVARD   UNDER  QUINCY 

The  most  memorable  event  of  Quincy's  adminis- 
tration was  the  bicentennial  celebration  of  the  found- 
ing of  the  college,  which  was  held  on  September  8, 
1836.  A  pavilion  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  by 
one  hundred  and  twenty  was  built  in  front  of  Uni- 
versity Hall  and  covered  with  white  canvas.  Its 
pillars  were  wreathed  with  evergreens  and  flowers; 
streamers  of  blue  and  white  floated  down  from  the 
top  of  the  tent.  All  the  college  buildings  were 
decorated  in  a  similar  manner.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing the  roads  from  Boston  to  Cambridge  were  the 
scene  of  unusual  activity.  The  townspeople  turned 
out  along  the  way,  booths  were  set  up,  coaches  and 
carriages  rolled  by  continuously.  At  nine  o'clock 
the  alumni  and  invited  guests,  to  the  number  of 
fifteen  hundred,  assembled  in  University  Hall. 
At  ten  o'clock  the  procession  formed,  headed  by 
one  member  of  the  class  of  1774.  It  passed  through 
the  gate  between  Massachusetts  Hall  and  Harvard 
Hall  and  entered  the  Congregational  Church.  There 
"  Fair  Harvard,"  written  for  the  occasion  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Gilman  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina, 
was  sung  for  the  first  time.  President  Quincy 
made  a  two-hour  address,  which  was  followed  by 
a  prayer,  hymn,  and  benediction.  Then  the  pro- 
cession marched  through  the  common,  back  into 

145 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  yard,  and  entered  the  pavilion.  Here  Edward 
Everett  presided  at  the  dinner  and  delivered  a 
characteristic  and  abundant  oration,  overflowing 
with  classical  allusions.  Forty  toasts  were  pro- 
posed, each  one  in  the  stately  language  of  the  period, 
and  nearly  as  many  speeches,  among  them  one  by 
Daniel  Webster,  were  delivered  —  all  of  a  consider- 
able length  and  not  one  with  the  slightest  trace  of 
humor.  In  fact,  the  speech-making  lasted  until 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

Pedantry  was  in  the  air  of  Cambridge  in  those 
days;  such  words  as  "  the  feast  of  reason  and  the 
flow  of  soul  "  really  seemed  to  the  people  of  the 
time  to  express  very  happily  an  agreeable  idea; 
and  an  occasion  which  to  an  audience  of  the  present 
would  have  been  a  monumental  affliction  held  our 
solemn  forefathers  rapt  and  attentive  and  provided 
them  with  a  lifelong,  pleasant  memory. 


146 


CHAPTER  X 

ANTE  -  BELLUM    DAYS 

IN  President  Quincy's  administration,  sharp 
restrictions  were  still  imposed  upon  the  under- 
graduate's freedom.  The  college  rules  of  1832  or- 
dained that  "  no  student  shall  be  absent  from  the 
University  a  night  in  term  time,  or  go  out  of  the 
town  of  Cambridge  at  any  time  .  .  .  without  per- 
mission from  the  President,"  and  that  "  every 
student  is  required  on  the  Lord's  Day  and  the  evening 
preceding  to  abstain  from  visiting  and  from  re- 
ceiving visits,  from  unnecessary  walking,  and  from 
using  any  diversion,  and  from  all  behavior  incon- 
sistent with  the  sacred  season."  With  these  and 
with  other  cramping  regulations,  and  with  practi- 
cally no  athletics  to  absorb  nervous  and  physical 
energy,  college  life  often  seemed  irksome;  frequent 
outbursts  of  disorder  and  drunkenness  were  the 
methods  by  which  undergraduates  sought  relief 
from  monotony. 

Some  letters  written  by  Francis  Parkman,  of  the 
147 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

class  of  '44,  portray  the  diversions  of  a  young  gentle- 
man of  the  period : 

"  Here  I  am,  down  in  Divinity  Hall  (!)  enjoying 
to  my  heart's  content  that  otium  cum  dignitate 

which   you   so  affectionately   admire Do   you 

not  envy  me  my  literary  ease?  —  a  sea-coal  fire  - 
a     dressing-gown  —  slippers  —  a     favorite    author; 

—  all  set  off  by  an  occasional  bottle  of  champagne, 
or  a  bowl  of  stewed  oysters  at  V/ashburn's?      This 
is  the  cream  of  existence.     To  lie  abed  in  the  morn- 
ing, till  the  sun  has  half  melted   away  the  trees  and 
castles  on  the  window-panes,   and   Nigger  Lewis's 
fire    is    almost   burnt    out,    listening    meanwhile    to 
the  steps  of  the  starved  Divinities  as  they  rush  shiv- 
ering and  panting  to  their  prayers  and  recitations 

-  then  to  get  up  to  a  fashionable  breakfast  at  eleven 

—  then  go  to  lecture  —  find  it  a  little  too  late,  and 
adjourn  to  Joe  Peabody's  room  for  a  novel,  conver- 
sation, and  a  morning  glass  of  madeira."    One  hardly 
recognizes  in  this  sybarite  the   hero  of   the  Oregon 
Trail! 

Again:  "Joe  got  up  one  of  his  old-fashioned 
suppers,  on  a  scale  of  double  magnificence,  inviting 
thereunto  every  specimen  of  the  class  of  '44  that 
lingered  within  an  accessible  distance.  .  .  .  The  spree 
was  worthy  of  the  entertainment.  None  got  drunk, 

148 


(j 


Divinity  Hall 


ANTE-BELLUM  DAYS 

but  all  got  jolly;  and  Joe's  champagne  disappeared 
first;  then  his  madeira;  and  his  whiskey  punch 
would  have  followed  suit,  if  its  copious  supplies 

had  not  prevented The  whole  ended  with 

smashing  a  dozen  bottles  against  the  Washington 
(elm?)  and  a  war-dance  with  scalp  yells  in  the  middle 
of  the  common,  in  the  course  of  which  several  night- 
capped  heads  appeared  at  the  opened  windows  of 
the  astonished  neighbors." 

Champagne,  madeira,  whiskey  punch,  and  only 
an  air  of  jollity!  But  another  passage  recording 
an  incident  of  Parkman's  freshman  year  convinces 
us  that  these  young  men  were  not  superhuman: 

"  It  was  a  very  hot  night.  We  had  opened  our 
windows  in  search  of  air  when  there  was  a  knock 
on  the  door  and  ten  or  twelve  seniors  came  in.  It 
was  an  immensely  impressive  circumstance.  We 
regarded  the  seniors  with  awe  and  reverence.  Still 
it  was  not  above  their  dignity  to  haze  a  couple 
of  harmless  and  callow  freshmen.  They  closed  the 
windows  and  took  out  cigars  and  began  to  smoke 
their  cigars  to  smoke  us  out.  We  bore  it  for  a  while; 
then  the  air  became  thick,  and  we  began  to  think 
we  had  had  enough  of  it.  Suddenly  one  of  the 
seniors  sprang  up  and  rushed  to  the  door  and  asked 
for  the  key.  The  door  was  opened;  he  went  out, 

149 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

left  his  supper  on  the  doorstep,   and  went  to  his 
room,  followed  by  all  the  rest." 

In  1843  a  small  gymnasium  was  provided  for  the 
use  of  the  students,  —  the  first  official  recognition 
of  the  importance  of  physical  exercise.  Athletics 
began  to  play  an  important  part  in  the  college  life, 
but  even  through  the  fifties  it  was  a  very  informal 
and  unorganized  kind  of  athletics.  A  crude  sort 
of  football  was  played  on  the  Delta,  where  Memorial 
Hall  now  stands.  Robert  Gould  Shaw  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  freshman  year,  in  1856,  described  one 
of  the  contests: 

"  Last  Monday  we  had  our  six  annual  football 
games,  Freshmen  kicking  against  Sophomores.  In 
the  last  three  games  the  Juniors  help  the  Freshmen, 
and  the  Seniors  help  the  Sophomores.  We  beat 
the  third  game  alone,  a  thing  which  has  happened 
only  three  times  since  the  University  was  founded. 
The  Sophomores  generally  beat  all  six  games  be- 
cause they  know  the  ground  and  know  each  other. 
As  I  think  a  description  of  the  whole  affair  would 
amuse  you,  I  will  give  it  to  you. 

"  At  half  past  six  we  went  to  the  Delta,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  whole  Sophomore  class  streamed 
into  the  field  at  one  end,  and  about  as  large  a  class 
of  Freshmen  into  the  other,  and  stood  opposite 

150 


ANTE-BELLUM  DAYS 

each  other  about  a  hundred  yards  apart,  like  two 
hostile  armies.  There  we  stood  cheering  and  getting 
up  our  courage  until  the  ball  was  brought.  It  was 
received  with  great  cheering  and  hurrahing,  and 
handed  over  to  the  Sophomores,  who  had  the  first 
kick  by  rights.  After  they  had  kicked  once,  they 
waited  until  our  champion,  [Caspar]  Crowninshield, 
had  one  kick,  and  then  rushed  in. 

"  They  knew  that  we  were  a  large  class  and  had  a 
good  many  big  fellows,  so  they  determined  to 
frighten  us  by  hard  fighting;  and  if  anything  was 
calculated  to  frighten  fellows  not  used  to  it,  it  was 
the  way  in  which  they  came  upon  us.  They  rushed 
down  in  a  body,  and,  hardly  looking  for  the  ball, 
the  greater  part  of  them  turned  their  attention  to 
knocking  down  as  many  as  they  could,  and  kicked 
the  ball  when  they  happened  to  come  across  it. 
It  was  a  regular  battle,  with  fifty  to  seventy  men  on 
each  side.  It  resembled  more  my  idea  of  the  hand- 
to-hand  fighting  of  the  ancients  than  anything 
else.  After  the  first  game,  few  had  their  own  hats 
on,  few  a  whole  shirt.  In  the  beginning  I  rushed  into 
the  middle  with  the  crowd,  but  after  that  I  kept 
among  fellows  of  my  own  size  on  the  outskirts. 
My  experience  in  the  middle  was  this:  before  I  had 
been  there  more  than  a  second,  I  had  got  three  fear- 

151 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

ful  raps  on  the  head,  and  was  knocked  down,  and 
they  all  ran  over  me  after  the  ball,  which  had 
been  kicked  to  another  part  of  the  field.  Then  I 
picked  myself  up,  as  did  a  great  many  other  fellows 
lying  about  me,  and  looked  for  my  hat  among  about 
twenty  others  and  a  good  many  rags.  I  found  it  some 
time  afterwards  serving  as  football  to  a  Sophomore 
during  the  entr'  acte.  That  was  Monday,  and  to- 
day is  Friday,  but  my  head  is  not  entirely  well  yet. 
I  got  a  good  many  blows  which  I  didn't  feel  at  all 
till  the  next  day.  A  good  many  of  our  fellows  were 
more  badly  hurt,  because  they  had  pluck  enough 
to  go  into  the  thick  of  it  each  time;  once  was  enough 
for  me.  It  was  fine  to  see  how  little  some  of  them 
cared  for  the  blows  they  got.  After  the  Juniors 
and  Seniors  came  in,  there  must  have  been  two 
hundred  on  the  ground.  Of  the  last  three  games, 
we  beat  one  and  one  was  voted  a  drawn  game.  This 
is  a  much  more  important  thing  than  one  would 
think,  because  it  is  an  established  custom;  and 
our  having  beaten  is  a  great  glory,  and  gives  the 
other  classes  a  much  higher  opinion  of  us  than 
they  would  otherwise  have.  They  talked  about  it 
quite  amicably  the  next  day.  Several  of  the  Sopho- 
mores and  Seniors,  who  were  both  opposed  to  us, 
came  over  to  our  side  that  same  evening  and  con- 

152 


ANTE-BELLUM  DAYS 

gratulated  us  upon  having  beaten  them,  because  it 
was  such  an  unusual  thing.  Now  we  play  football 
every  evening,  but  all  the  classes  mix  up,  and  there 
is  little  or  no  righting." 

In  1845  President  Quincy  resigned  after  what  had 
been  in  many  ways  the  most  memorable  and  pro- 
gressive administration  that  any  president  had 
given  to  Harvard  University.  His  successor  was 
Edward  Everett,  who  held  the  office  for  only  three 
years.  The  admired  orator  of  the  period  was  not 
well  qualified  to  fulfil  the  president's  duties.  His 
ideas  of  discipline  were  those  of  the  pedagogue  of 
the  primary  school,  his  sense  of  personal  dignity 
was  too  acute,  his  lack  of  humor  and  of  human  under- 
standing was  conspicuous. 

Mr.  Joseph  H.  Choate,  of  the  class  of  '52,  has  re- 
called an  illuminating  instance  of  President  Ever- 
ett's insistence  upon  petty  formalities.  Mr.  Choate 
was  a  freshman  of  only  one  week's  standing  when 
he  received  a  summons  from  the  president's  secre- 
tary. "  Mr.  Choate,"  said  the  secretary,  "  the 
president  has  directed  me  to  inform  you  that  he 
observes  with  great  regret  that  you  passed  him  in 
Harvard  Square  yesterday  without  touching  your 
hat.  He  trusts  that  this  offence  will  never  be  re- 
peated." 

153 


THE   STORY   OF  HARVARD 

There  is  a  delightfully  naive  account  by  Dr. 
Andrew  P.  Peabody  of  the  lecture  on  Washington 
with  which  Everett  toured  the  country;  for  the 
humorous  light  that  it  throws  upon  the  taste 
of  the  period  as  well  as  upon  two  of  Har- 
vard's worthies,  it  may  be  introduced  into  these 
pages : 

"  That  lecture  was  the  most  marvellous  master- 
work  of  rhetorical  art  and  skill  of  which  I  ever  had 
any  knowledge.  Washington's  character,  in  its 
massive  simplicity  and  perfectness,  afforded  very 
little  hold  for  popular  eloquence.  Mr.  Everett,  fully 
aware  of  this,  grouped  around  the  honored  name  a 
vast  number  and  an  immense  diversity  of  men,  in- 
cidents, objects  of  admiration  in  nature  and  curi- 
osity in  art,  scientific  facts,  classical  allusions, 
myths  of  the  gods  of  Greece,  —  the  greater  part 
of  them  not  in  themselves  illustrative  of  his  theme, 
but  all  of  them  pressed  into  its  service  and  forced 
into  an  adaptation  that  was  made  at  the  time  to 
appear  natural  and  obvious.  A  catalogue  of  the 
materials  used  in  that  lecture  would  seem  as  heter- 
ogeneous as  the  contents  of  a  country  variety  shop, 
and  a  man  of  ordinary  genius  would  have  won  only 
ridicule  in  the  attempt  to  bring  them  together.  But 
Mr.  Everett  compressed  them  into  perfect  and 

154 


ANTE-BELLUM   DAYS 

amazing  unity,  and  rendered  them  all  subsidiary  to 
the  name  and  fame  of  Washington;  while,  when 
the  lecture  was  over,  it  was  impossible  to  recollect 
what  bearing  on  the  character  of  our  first  President 
was  assigned  to  the  greater  part  of  them.  I  first 
heard  the  lecture  in  Boston.  A  few  weeks  after- 
ward he  delivered  it  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  where 
I  then  lived  and  shared  with  the  friend  at  whose 
house  he  stayed  the  charge  and  pleasure  of  his  hos- 
pitable reception.  We  took  him  to  the  family 
mansion  where  Tobias  Lear,  Washington's  private 
secretary,  was  born,  and  where  Washington,  on 
his  Northern  tour  during  his  presidency,  was  a 
guest,  and  introduced  him  there  to  an  old  lady, 
Mr.  Lear's  niece,  who  had  in  her  parlor  the  very  sofa 
on  which  Washington  had  sat,  holding  her  on  his 
knee,  and  a  sampler  which  she  had  wrought  with 
a  long  lock  of  his  white  hair  which  he  gave  her. 
Mr.  Everett,  without  seeking  time  for  special  prep- 
aration, so  worked  the  Lear  house,  its  occupant, 
and  its  furniture  into  the  appropriate  part  of  his 
lecture  that  the  whole  story  seemed  absolutely 
inseparable  from  what  preceded  and  what  followed, 
and  as  if  it  had  been  written  in  its  place  in  the  be- 
ginning. A  short  time  afterward  I  went  to  Bruns- 
wick to  deliver  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  address,  and  he 

155 


THE   STORY   OF   HARVARD 

was  going  to  deliver  his  Washington  lecture  in 
the  evening.  I  was  his  fellow  guest  at  the  house  of 
his  cousin,  Hon.  Ebenezer  Everett.  It  was  in- 
cidentally said  at  table  that  '  all  Bath  '  was  com- 
ing up  to  hear  him,  arrangements  having  been  made 
for  a  special  train.  A  short  time  previously  the 
wife  of  a  Bath  ship-master  disabled  by  paralysis,  — 
though  herself  in  a  condition  that  might  have  ex- 
cused her  from  active  duty,  —  had  taken  command 
of  her  husband's  ship,  in  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco, 
and  brought  it  home  in  good  order  to  Bath.  That 
story  Mr.  Everett  incorporated  into  his  lecture, 
entering  with  the  utmost  delicacy  into  the  cir- 
cumstances that  rendered  the  achievement  the  more 
heroic  and  noteworthy;  and  there  was  no  portion 
of  the  lecture  which  seemed  more  closely  adapted 
to  the  subject  or  which  the  hearers  would  have  missed 
more  had  they  heard  the  discourse  again  elsewhere. 
Yet,  when  Mr.  Everett  had  gone  to  his  room,  we 
found  it  impossible  to  recall  the  process  by  which 
he  had  dovetailed  this  story  into  his  lecture,  or 
the  precise  bearing  which  it  had  on  the  merit  and 
fame  of  Washington." 

Dr.  Peabody  remained  for  many  years  to  delight, 
entertain,  and  instruct  the  youth  of  Harvard; 
but  Edward  Everett  seemed  to  excite  irritation 

156 


ANTE-BELLUM   DAYS 

and  levity  rather  than  respect,  and  in  1849  he  re- 
signed the  presidency  of  the  college. 

Jared  Sparks,  the  author  and  editor  of  volu- 
minous biography,  succeeded  him.  He  was  not 
a  man  under  whose  leadership  a  university  would 
be  likely  to  make  any  notable  advance;  but  he 
was  a  substantial  scholar  and  a  kindly  human  be- 
ing. The  other  college  authorities  were  disposed  to 
maintain  the  severe  standards  of  discipline  set  by 
his  predecessor,  under  whom  "  the  omission  of  a 
necktie  in  the  early  darkness  of  morning  pray- 
ers incurred  for  the  offender  an  admonition  from 
the  chairman  of  the  parietal  board;  the  throwing 
of  a  snowball  was  reported  to  the  faculty;  the 
question  was  raised  whether  the  making  of  the 
snowball  without  throwing  it  did  not  deserve 
censure;  and  the  blowing  of  a  horn  was  a  capital 
crime." 

But  President  Sparks  often  intervened  to  pro- 
tect the  students  from  the  extremes  of  such  harsh 
doctrine.  "  Oh,  let  the  boys  alone;  they  will  take 
care  of  themselves,"  was  his  frequent  admonition 
to  an  over-zealous  officer. 

The  chapel  was  the  theater  of  ingenious  and  secret 
undergraduate  activities.  To  prevent  the  bell  from 
being  rung  was  the  ambition  of  many  college  gener- 

157 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

ations.  It  was  turned  up  and  filled  with  water, 
which  froze;  sulphuric  acid  was  poured  into  it;  the 
rope  was  cut;  the  keyholes  of  the  locked  chapel 
doors  were  plugged  up  with  wax;  on  one  occasion 
the  bell-tongue  was  removed,  the  doors  leading  to 
the  belfry  were  screwed  up,  and  the  heads  of  the 
screws  were  filed  off.  But  the  resourceful  janitor 
broke  his  way  in  and  punctually  rang  the  bell  by 
beating  it  with  a  hammer.  In  the  matter  of  bell 
ringing,  the  college  authorities  always  triumphed. 
But  in  Sparks's  administration  the  Bible  was  suc- 
cessfully stolen  from  the  chapel  and  sent  by  express 
to  the  Librarian  of  Yale,  who  returned  it  to  Har- 
vard. On  the  fly  leaf  was  written:  "  Hoc  Biblum 
raptum  vi  a  pulpite  Harvard  Coll.  Chapelli  facultati 
Yali  ab  Harv.  Coll.  under graduatibus  donatur.  Co- 
veres  servamus  in  usum  Chessboardi.  Pro  Helter 
Skelter  Club." 

Notwithstanding  Sparks's  amiability,  he  had  a 
certain  stubbornness  and  clung  to  his  prejudices. 
He  had  no  admiration  for  Kossuth,  who  was  en- 
gaged in  a  triumphant  tour  of  the  country  and  was 
making  for  Cambridge.  The  faculty  wished  to  do 
special  honor  to  the  Hungarian  patriot,  and  as  he 
would  be  on  hand  for  the  usual  spring  "  exhibition," 
they  voted  to  hold  it  in  the  First  Parish  Church, 

158 


ANTE-BELLUM  DAYS 

where  Commencements  were  held,  instead  of  in  the 
small  college  chapel.  President  Sparks  said:  "  It 
is  for  you,  gentlemen,  to  hold  .the  exhibition  where 
you  please.  I  shall  go  to  the  chapel  in  my  cap  and 
gown  at  the  usual  hour."  The  faculty  reconsidered 
their  vote;  and  the  projected  Kossuth  celebration 
fell  flat. 

On  account  of  physical  infirmity  President  Sparks 
resigned  in  1853;  James  Walker,  professor  of  nat- 
ural religion  and  moral  philosophy,  was  elected  in 
his  place.  In  matters  of  discipline  he  was  even 
more  tolerant  than  Sparks  had  been,  and  he  suc- 
ceeded in  eliminating  the  absurd  code  that  had  pre- 
vailed under  Everett.  He  was  a  celebrated  preacher; 
his  chief  claim  to  distinction  lay  in  his  sermons. 
He  resigned  in  1860;  Cornelius  C.  Felton,  the 
most  eminent  Greek  scholar  of  the  university, 
succeeded  him,  but  died  in  less  than  two  years. 
Then  came  Thomas  Hill,  professor  of  mathematics; 
his  term  likewise  was  short,  for  he  retired  in 
1868. 

A  letter  written  by  Lowell  to  President  Hill  in 
1863  gives  a  criticism  of  the  college  yard  at  this 
period : 

"...  Something  ought  to  be  done  about  the 
trees  in  the  college  yard.  That  is  my  thesis,  and 

159 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

my  corollary  is  that  you  are  the  man  to  do  it.  They 
remind  me  always  of  a  young  author's  first  volume 
of  poems.  There  are  too  many  of  'em  and  too 
many  of  one  kind.  If  they  were  not  planted  in 
such  formal  rows,  they  would  typify  very  well 
John  Bull's  notion  of  '  our  democracy,'  where  every 
tree  is  its  neighbor's  enemy,  and  all  turn  out  scrubs 
in  the  end,  because  none  can  develop  fairly.  Then 
there  is  scarce  anything  but  American  elms.  I 
have  nothing  to  say  against  the  tree  in  itself.  I  have 
some  myself  whose  trunks  I  look  on  as  the  most 
precious  baggage  I  am  responsible  for  in  the  journey 
of  life,  but  planted  as  they  are  in  the  yard,  there's 
no  chance  for  one  in  ten.  If  our  buildings  so 
nobly  dispute  architectural  pre-eminence  with  cotton 
mills,  perhaps  it  is  all  right  that  the  trees  should 
become  spindles,  but  I  think  Hesiod  (who  knew 
something  of  country  matters)  was  clearly  right 
in  his  half  being  better  than  the  whole,  and  no- 
where more  so  than  in  the  matter  of  trees.  There 
are  two  English  beeches  in  the  yard  which  would 
become  noble  trees  if  the  elms  would  let  'em  alone. 
As  it  is,  they  are  in  danger  of  starving.  Now,  as 
you  are  our  Kubernetes,  I  want  you  to  take  the 
'elm  in  hand.  We  want  more  variety,  more  group- 
ing. We  want  to  learn  that  one  fine  tree  is  worth 

160 


ANTE-BELLUM  DAYS 

more  than  any  mob  of  second  rate  ones.  We  want 
to  take  a  leaf  out  of  Chaucer's  book  and  understand 
that  in  a  stately  grove  every  tree  must  '  stand  well 
from  his  fellow  apart.'  A  doom  hangs  over  us  in  the 
matter  of  architecture,  but  if  we  will  only  let  a 
tree  alone  it  will  build  itself  with  a  nobleness  of 
proportion  and  grace  of  detail  that  Giotto  himself 
might  have  envied.  Nor  should  the  pruning  as 
now  be  entrusted  to  men  who  get  all  they  cut  off, 
and  whose  whole  notion  of  pruning  accordingly  is, 
'  axe  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you.'  Do,  pray, 
take  this  matter  into  your  own  hands  —  for  you 
know  how  to  love  a  tree  —  and  give  us  a  modern 
instance  of  a  wise  saw.  Be  remembered  among  your 
other  good  things  as  the  president  that  planted  the 
groups  of  evergreens  for  the  wind  to  dream  of  the 
sea  in  all  summer  and  for  the  snowflakes  to  roost 
on  in  winter." 

The  last  adjuration  failed  to  move  Dr.  Hill; 
no  groups  of  evergreens  have  flourished  in  the  yard. 
And  curiously  enough  the  president  whom  future 
generations  will  connect  with  tree-planting  is  he 
who  bears  the  name  of  Lowell. 

Yet  President  Hill  deserves  to  rank  as  one  of 
the  progressives  —  to  use  a  word  that  had  not 
then  achieved  currency.  It  was  in  his  administra- 

161 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

tion  that  the  idea  of  elective  studies  was  first  vigor- 
ously advocated  in  Harvard  College.  It  remained 
for  his  successor  to  give  the  principle  its  widest 
application. 


162 


CHAPTER  XI 

HARVARD    IN    THE    WAR 

THE  South  had  always  been  friendly  to  Harvard, 
and  before  the  struggle  over  slavery  became 
acute,  Harvard  was  sympathetic  with  the  South. 
To  Harvard  came  some  of  the  best  representatives 
of  the  Southern  aristocracy.  The  idea  of  slave- 
holding  as  expressed  by  these  young  men  was 
patriarchal  rather  than  iniquitous.  Harvard  un- 
dergraduates, Harvard  professors  accepted  the  ex- 
istence of  slavery  in  the  South  without  particularly 
questioning  the  justice  or  wisdom  or  desirability 
of  it.  Their  feeling  was  that  it  was  an  economic 
necessity,  and  that  the  rights  of  property  must 
be  respected. 

The  Abolitionists  had  no  following  at  Harvard. 
Lowell,  graduating  in  1838,  sent  his  class  poem 
in  from  Concord,  where  he  had  been  rusticated  for 
neglect  of  studies;  it  ridiculed  the  Abolitionists, 
and  the  ridicule  was  popular.  Wendell  Phillips, 
while  he  was  in  college  and  even  while  he  was  in 

163 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  Law  School,  had  not  been  inflamed  and  in- 
spired by  their  propaganda.  Sumner  in  1848  made 
speeches  for  the  Free  Soil  party  throughout  Massa- 
chusetts, and  came  to  Cambridge;  there  he  was 
hissed.  Lowell  was  a  late  convert  to  the  Free  Soil 
cause;  but  Ticknor,  Everett,  Sparks,  Felton,  Mot- 
ley, Parkman,  and  Dana  were  among  the  distin- 
guished Harvard  men  who  stood  firmly  on  the  other 
side.  The  professors  in  the  Law  School  defended 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  and  out  of  the  hundred 
students  under  them,  only  six  were  opposed  to  it. 
Nevertheless,  as  the  crisis  of  Secession  drew 
near,  the  Union  sentiment  of  the  college  swept  away 
conservative  inclinations.  In  1861  all  the  Southern- 
ers went  home.  In  April,  on  the  day  after  Lincoln 
made  his  appeal  for  volunteers,  the  seniors  raised 
a  transparency  on  a  tree  in  front  of  Holworthy. 
One  side  bore  the  legend,  "  The  Constitution  and 
the  Enforcement  of  the  Laws,"  the  other,  "  Harvard 
For  War."  The  undergraduates  assembled  and 
cheered;  that  evening  rockets  were  set  off;  the 
next  morning  from  every  window  in  Massachusetts 
Hall,  then  a  sophomore  dormitory,  a-flag  was  flying. 
Governor  Andrew  called  on  Harvard  for  volunteers 
to  guard  the  arsenal  at  Watertown.  Military 
drills  were  held  daily  on  the  Delta;  students 

164 


Appleton  Chapel 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

rushed  to  enroll  themselves  in  volunteer  companies 
for  defence.  For  a  time  the  authorities  attempted 
to  check  the  martial  enthusiasm;  but  when  the 
magnitude  of  the  struggle  became  apparent,  they 
withdrew  their  opposition.  Eighty-one  men  were 
graduated  in  the  class  of  '61 ;  fifty-one  of  them  bore 
arms  for  the  Union.  The  rooms  in  the  college  yard 
were  scenes  of  grave  debate  between  young  men 
earnestly  seeking  to  decide  where  their  duty  lay. 
Often  it  happened  that  of  two  room-mates,  one 
went  to  the  war,  the  other  stayed  behind.  There 
were  sword-presentations  to  those  who  departed: 
sometimes  the  young  soldier,  returning  on  fur- 
lough, brightened  the  yard  with  his  holiday  uni- 
form; on  Class  Day  and  Commencement  there 
would  be  a  sprinkling  of  undergraduates  and  recent 
graduates  who  were  already  seasoned  veterans  of 
the  war. 

Thirteen  hundred  and  eleven  Harvard  men 
served  in  the  Union  army  and  navy.  One  hundred 
and  sixty-seven  were  killed  or  died  of  disease.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty-seven  Harvard  men  fought  on 
the  Confederate  side;  sixty-four  of  them  were 
killed  or  died  of  disease. 

The  story  of  Harvard  College  is  in  a  sense  the 
story  of  her  sons;  the  brightest  and  the  most 

165 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

touching  page  in  her  history  is  that  which  records 
their  services  in  the  Civil  War.  Therefore  I  will 
make  no  apology  for  sketching  here  a  few  of  those 
whose  deeds  and  whose  death  cast  a  luster  on  the 
university  they  loved. 

Everett  Peabody  was  one  of  the  leading  scholars 
of  the  class  of  '49;  he  was  also  a  big,  athletic 
fellow,  full  of  animal  spirits,  brimming  with  energy, 
fond  of  pranks;  he  was  rusticated  for  making  a 
bonfire  on  the  steps  of  University  Hall.  In  spite 
of  this  he  was  graduated  with  honors  and  had  a 
part  at  Commencement.  He  went  West,  became  an 
engineer,  and  built  railroads  in  Ohio,  Illinois,  and 
Missouri;  before  he  was  thirty  he  was  regarded 
as  the  best  field  engineer  in  all  that  country.  He 
lived  chiefly  in  a  "  boarding  car  "  at  the  unfinished 
extremity  of  a  new  railroad  track;  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  dating  his  letters  home  from  "  Boarding 
Cars." 

"  The  aforesaid  cars,"  he  wrote  in  a  letter  that 
showed  his  characteristic  liveliness  of  spirit,  "  are 
now  on  an  embankment  about  forty  feet  high,  and 
the  snow  stretches  away  to  the  north  and  south. 
The  trees  are  black  and  dreary  looking,  and  the 
wind  goes  howling  by.  Bitter  cold  it  is,  too,  out- 
side. But  I  have  finished  my  frugal  repast  of 

166 


HARVARD  IN  THE   WAR 

bread  and  butter  and  do  not  purpose  exposing  my 
cherished  nose  to  the  night  air  again.  Vague  rem- 
iniscences come  back  to  me  of  ancient  sleigh-rides, 
of  pretty  faces  snuggling  close  to  your  side,  of 
muffs  held  up  before  faces  to  keep  off  the  wind,  and 
gentle  words.  There  is  fun  enough,  and  wit  and 
nonsense  enough,  out  here;  but  after  all  it  is  hard 
and  angular  and  lacks  entirely  the  refining  influence 
which  womankind  infuses  into  man's  life.  But  the 
weird  sisters  weave,  and  Atropos  sits  ready.  Let 
her  sit." 

In  the  spring  of  1861  Peabody  took  an  active  part 
in  the  convention  that  kept  Missouri  in  the  Union. 
Soon  after  that  he  was  commissioned  colonel  of 
the  1 3th  Missouri  Infantry.  He  wrote  to  his  brother: 
"  Good-by,  old  fellow.  I  have  a  sort  of  presenti- 
ment I  shall  go  under.  If  I  do,  it  shall  be  in  a  man- 
ner that  the  old  family  shall  feel  proud  of  it." 

Within  a  month  the  ill-fated  regiment  encoun- 
tered a  vastly  superior  force  at  Lexington,  Missouri; 
and  after  stubbornly  holding  its  position  in  an 
eight-day  fight,  it  was  at  last  surrounded  and  cap- 
tured. Peabody  was  wounded  in  the  foot.  A 
couple  of  months  later  he  was  exchanged,  and,  still 
on  crutches,  set  about  reorganizing  his  regiment, 
which  now  became  the  25th  Missouri.  In  a  letter 

167 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

written  at  this  time  he  says:  "  I  am  a  nondescript 
animal,  which  I  call  a  triped,  as  yet,  but  I  trust 
in  a  short  time  to  be  on  foot  once  more. --You 
in  Massachusetts,  who  see  your  men  going  off 
thoroughly  equipped  and  prepared  for  the  service, 
can  hardly  conceive  the  destitution  and  ragged 
condition  of  the  Missouri  volunteers.  If  I  had  a 
whole  pair  of  breeches  in  my  regiment  at  Lexing- 
ton, I  don't  know  it;  but  I  learned  there  that 
bravery  did  not  depend  on  good  clothes." 

In  March,  1862,  he  was  in  command  of  the  lead- 
ing brigade  in  General  Prentiss's  division,  at  Shi- 
loh.  Just  before  the  battle,  he  felt  that  the  army 
was  in  danger  of  being  surprised,  and  asked  Prentiss 
for  permission  to  send  out  a  scouting  party.  Pren- 
tiss delayed  answering  and  finally  ignored  the  re- 
quest; Peabody  therefore  sent  out  a  scouting  party 
on  his  own  responsibility.  This  party  met  the  Con- 
federate column  advancing,  just  as  Peabody  had 
feared,  and  fell  back,  skirmishing.  Peabody  had 
his  brigade  in  line  to  receive  the  attack;  the  rest  of 
the  division  was  unprepared  and  was  thrown  into 
confusion.  Had  Peabody  instead  of  Prentiss  held 
the  division  command,  the  ultimate  victory  of  the 
Union  troops  might  have  been  less  dearly  bought. 
The  right  of  the  division  was  captured  en  masse; 

168 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

Peabody  rode  gallantly  to  the  front  to  rally  his 
brigade  against  the  overwhelming  attack,  was 
shot  through  the  head,  and  killed  instantly. 

Wilder  Dwight,  of  the  class  of  '53,  was  an  earnest 
and  somewhat  introspective  youth.  He  kept  a 
diary  in  college.  "  I  am  somewhat  of  a  '  dig,'  I 
suppose,"  he  reflected  in  his  freshman  year;  "  and 
though  the  character  is  rather  an  ignominious  one 
in  college,  it  is  in  so  good  repute  elsewhere  and  among 
wiser  persons  than  freshmen  or  even  sophomores 
that  I  shall  endeavor  always  to  deserve  the  title. 
Natural  geniuses,  that  is,  lazy  good  scholars,  are 
few  and  far  between.  I  shall,  therefore,  estimate 
myself  as  a  very  common  sort  of  a  person;  and  as 
I  desire  to  excel,  I  shall  choose  the  way  which  seems 
to  promise  success."  This  serious-minded  young 
moralist,  whose  diary  is  filled  with  abstracts  of 
sermons  and  reflections  induced  by  them,  wonder- 
fully escaped  developing  into  a  prig.  After  gradua- 
tion, he  went  through  the  Law  School,  then  spent 
more  than  a  year  in  study  abroad,  and  after  that 
established  himself  as  a  lawyer  in  Boston.  Soon 
he  was  known  as  one  of  the  ablest  of  the  younger 
men  practising  at  the  bar. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  Dwight  determined 
to  raise  a  regiment.  He  got  subscriptions  to  guar- 

169 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

antee  necessary  expenses;  he  went  to  Washington 
and  obtained  from  the  Secretary  of  War  the  spe- 
cial authority  required  for  enlistment.  The  regi- 
ment that  he  helped  to  recruit  was  the  Second 
Massachusetts,  which,  officered  very  largely  by 
Harvard  men,  went  through  some  of  the  most  des- 
perate fighting  of  the  war.  From  that  time  on, 
as  his  mother  wrote,  "  his  history  was  that  of  the 
regiment."  He  was  commissioned  major;  in 
June,  1862,  he  was  promoted  to  be  lieutenant- 
colonel.  He  was  an  admirable  officer  in  camp  and 
on  the  field;  he  looked  after  the  health  and  comfort 
of  his  men  and  was  indefatigable  in  his  kindness 
to  them.  His  fiery-hearted  zeal  for  accomplishment, 
for  action,  underwent  severe  trials;  the  regiment 
was  attached  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  under 
AlcClellan;  Dwight  chafed  at  the  enforced  idle- 
ness. "  I  had  rather  lose  my  life  to-morrow  in  a 
victory  than  save  it  for  fifty  years  without  one!  "  he 
wrote.  And  again:  "  I  presume  I  love  life  and  home 
and  friends  as  much  as  any  one;  but  I  should  sooner 
give  them  all  up  to-morrow  than  to  have  our  regi- 
ment go  home  empty.  ...  If  you  have  any  prayers 
to  give,  give  them  all  to  the  supplication  that  the 
Second  Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers  may 
find  a  field  whereon  to  write  a  record  of  itself.  Do 

170 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

not  spend  your  days  in  weakly  fearing  or  regretting 
this  or  that  life,  —  lives  whose  whole  sweetness  and 
value  depend  upon  their  opportunities,  not  upon 
their  length." 

But  there  was  to  be  no  lack  of  opportunities  for 
the  Second  Massachusetts.  Soon  it  was  in  the 
thick  of  the  fighting.  It  covered  Banks's  retreat 
in  May,  1862;  D wight,  lingering  to  assist  two 
wounded  soldiers,  fell  into  the  enemy's  hands. 
After  a  week  he  was  paroled.  His  regiment  had 
given  him  up  for  dead;  when  his  men  saw  him  ap- 
proaching, they  rushed  forward  and  welcomed  him 
with  joyous  enthusiasm.  He  told  them  who  of  their 
comrades  were  in  prison  in  Winchester,  and  who 
were  wounded.  Then  he  said  triumphantly:  "  And 
now  do  you  want  to  know  what  the  Rebels  think 
of  the  Massachusetts  Second  ?  '  Who  was  it  am- 
buscaded us  near  Bartonsville?  '  a  cavalry  officer 
asked  me.  '  That  was  the  Massachusetts  Second,' 
I  replied.  An  officer  of  Rebel  infantry  asked  me 
who  it  was  that  was  at  the  run  near  Bartonsville. 
'  That  was  the  Massachusetts  Second,'  said  I. 
'  Whose,'  asked  another  officer,  '  was  the  battery  so 
splendidly  served,  and  the  line  of  sharpshooters 
behind  the  stone  wall,  who  picked  off  every  officer 
of  ours  who  showed  himself?  '  '  That  was  the  Massa- 

171 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

chusetts  Second,'  said  I.  On  the  whole,  the  Rebels 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  had  been  fighting 
the  Massachusetts  Second,  and  that  they  did  not 
care  to  do  it  again  in  the  dark." 

Under  parole,  he  chafed  at  being  out  of  action. 
In  the  battle  of  Cedar  Mountain  his  regiment  was 
engaged  and  sustained  heavy  losses;  Dwight's 
mortification  over  his  absence  was  keen.  But  that 
day  his  exchange  was  effected,  and  he  joined  his 
men  in  time  to  take  part  in  Pope's  inglorious  retreat. 
He  wrote  bitterly:  "  We  want  soldiers,  soldiers, 
and  a  general  in  command.  Please  notice  the  words, 
all  of  them." 

At  the  battle  of  Antietam,  the  regiment  was  drawn 
up  under  the  shelter  of  a  fence;  Dwight  walked 
along  it,  directing  the  men  to  keep  their  heads  down 
out  of  reach  of  the  enemy's  fire.  Soon  he  fell  mor- 
tally wounded.  His  regiment  was  ordered  to  re- 
treat, and  men  were  detailed  to  carry  him,  but  his 
pain  was  so  intense  that  he  could  not  be  moved; 
he  was  left  lying  where  he  fell.  A  little  later,  young 
Rupert  Saddler,  a  private  of  his  command,  crept 
out  to  him  at  great  risk.  Afterwards  Saddler 
wrote  this  statement:  "  I  saw  a  man  with  his  head 
lying  on  a  rail.  I  felt  that  it  was  the  Colonel,  and 
I  hurried  to  him.  I  gave  him  a  drink  of  water, 

172 


HARVARD  IN  THE  WAR 

and  asked  him  where  he  was  wounded.  He  said 
his  thigh-bone  was  shattered.  I  saw  his  arm  was 
bleeding.  I  asked,  was  it  serious?  He  said,  '  It's 
a  pretty  little  wound.'  I  saw  two  of  our  men 
coming,  and  I  called  them  over.  The  Rebels  saw 
them  and  began  firing. '  Colonel  Dwight  wanted  us 
to  go  back  to  the  regiment.  Said  he,  '  Rupert,  if 
you  live,  I  want  you  to  be  a  good  boy.'  I  wanted 
to  bind  up  his  wounds,  but  he  said  it  was  no  use.  He 
gave  me  a  paper  he  had  been  trying  to  write  on, 
and  the  pencil;  the  paper  was  covered  with  his 
blood." 

It  was  a  note  to  his  mother,  sending  her  his  love 
and  saying  good-by. 

Saddler  and  the  two  other  men  lifted  him  and 
carried  him,  under  fire,  into  a  corn-field.  General 
Gordon  rode  up  to  him,  and  Dwight  saluted.  Bul- 
lets were  whistling  overhead.  "  I  must  have  you  re- 
moved from  here,"  said  General  Gordon.  "  Never 
mind  me,"  Dwight  answered.  "  Only  whip  them." 
He  was  carried  to  the  field  hospital  and  then  to 
Boonesborough,  where  he  died. 

Charles  Russell  Lowell  followed  Wilder  Dwight 
at  Harvard  by  a  year.  Born  in  1835,  he  was  one 
of  the  youngest  men  in  the  class  of  '54.  He  was 
a  man  such  as  appears  in  a  college  once  or  twice  in  a 

173 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

generation.  He  was  the  first  scholar  of  the  class 
throughout  his  college  course.  Ardent  in  mind  and 
temper,  handsome,  athletic,  he  was  distinguished 
not  only  by  his  love  of  learning,  but  also  by  his 
ruggechiess  of  character,  his  moral  steadiness  and 
strength.  In  every  way  he  appears  to  have  been 
the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  class.  As  a  scholar 
he  showed  the  greatest  versatility  and  the  most 
enthusiastic  acquisitiveness;  he  mastered  languages 
and  sciences  with  equal  zeal.  In  his  valedictory 
oration  on  "  The  Reverence  Due  from  Old  Men  to 
Young,"  there  is  a  passage  that  shows  the  quality 
of  his  thought  and  expression,  even  at  the  age  of 
nineteen: 

"  Mere  action  is  no  proof  of  progress;  we  make 
it  our  boast  how  much  we  do,  and  then  grow  blind 
to  what  we  do.  Action  here  is  the  Minotaur  which 
claims  and  devours  our  youths.  Athens  bewailed 
the  seven  who  yearly  left  her  shore;  with  us  scarce 
seven  remain,  and  we  urge  the  victims  to  their  fate. 

"  Apollonius  of  Tyana  tells  us  in  his  Travels 
that  he  saw  '  a  youth,  one  of  the  blackest  of  the 
Indians,  who  had  between  his  eyebrows  a  shi- 
ning moon.  Another  youth  named  Memnon,  the 
pupil  of  Herodes  the  Sophist,  had  this  moon  when 
he  was  young;  but  as  he  approached  to  man's  estate, 

174 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

its  light  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  finally  van- 
ished.' The  world  should  see  with  reverence  on 
each  youth's  brow,  as  a  shining  moon,  his  fresh  ideal. 
It  should  remember  that  he  is  already  in  the  hands 
of  a  sophist  more  dangerous  than  Herodes,  for  that 
sophist  is  himself.  It  should  watch,  lest,  from  too 
early  and  exclusive  action,  the  moon  on  his  brow, 
growing  fainter  and  fainter,  should  finally  vanish, 
and,  sadder  than  all,  should  leave  in  vanishing  no 
sense  of  loss." 

Although  thus  deprecating  the  young  man's 
eagerness  for  action,  Lowell  himself  exhibited  the 
characteristic  that  he  deplored.  Immediately  after 
graduation  he  entered  the  iron  mill  of  the  Ames 
Company  at  Chicopee,  Massachusetts,  as  a  common 
workman.  Already  he  had  ideas  for  improving  the 
condition  of  laboring  men,  and  he  was  not  unwilling 
to  make  a  first-hand  study  of  it.  A  year  later  he 
went  to  take  an  important  executive  position  with 
the  Trenton  Iron  Company  of  New  Jersey.  He  had 
been  there  but  a  short  time  when  he  was  attacked 
by  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs.  He  had  to  abandon  his 
work  and  his  hopes;  for  two  years  he  travelled  abroad 
for  his  health.  When  he  came  back  in  1858,  he  was 
still  too  unwell  to  resume  his  former  occupation; 
he  went  West  and  became  treasurer  of  the  Burling- 

175 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

ton  and  Missouri  River  Railroad.  In  the  two  years 
that  he  was  in  Burlington  his  health  improved,  and 
his  reputation  for  efficiency  was  established.  In 
1860  he  was  invited  to  undertake  the  management 
of  the  Mount  Savage  Iron  Works  at  Cumberland, 
Maryland,  and  accepted  the  offer,  seeing  in  it  an 
opportunity  ultimately  to  put  into  practice  his 
plans  for  improving  the  lot  of  the  workingman. 

But  on  April  20,  1861,  Lowell  got  the  news  of  the 
attack  made  the  day  before  in  Baltimore  on  the 
Sixth  Massachusetts.  He  resigned  the  management 
of  the  iron  works  and  applied  for  the  commission 
of  second  lieutenant  in  the  regular  army.  Of  this 
application  he  said:  "Military  science  I  have  ab- 
solutely none,  military  talent  I  am  too  ignorant  yet 
to  recognize;  but  my  education  and  experience  in 
business  and  in  the  working  of  men  may,  if  wanted, 
be  made  available  at  once  in  the  regular  army. 
Of  course  I  am  too  old  to  be  tickled  with  a  uniform." 
-He  was  only  twenty-six! 

In  June  he  wrote  that  he  would  not  think  of  be- 
coming a  soldier,  "  were  it  not  for  a  muddled  and 
twisted  idea  that  somehow  or  other  this  fight  is 
going  to  be  one  in  which  decent  men  ought  to  engage 
for  the  sake  of  humanity."  He  was  commissioned, 
not  second  lieutenant,  but  captain,  in  the  Third, 

176 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

afterwards  the  Sixth,  U.  S.  Cavalry.  During  the 
summer  he  was  engaged  in  recruiting  in  different 
parts  of  the  country.  The  regiment  spent  the 
autumn  and  winter  in  drilling  and  preparing  for 
the  field.  Lowell  felt  that  he  had  as  much  to  learn 
as  any  of  the  raw  recruits;  he  worked  zealously. 
His  colonel  pronounced  him  the  best  officer  appointed 
from  civil  life  that  he  had  ever  known  and  gave  him 
command  of  a  squadron. 

In  March,  1862,  the  regiment  joined  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  Lowell's  younger  brother,  James 
Jackson  Lowell,  who  was  the  first  scholar  in  the  class 
of  '58,  and,  like  Charles,  generous,  warm-hearted, 
and  beloved,  was  also  in  McClellan's  army  —  first 
lieutenant  in  the  igth  Massachusetts  Infantry.  He 
was  mortally  wounded  on  June  30  at  the  battle 
of  Glendale,  and  died  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  Charles 
Lowell  wrote:  "The  little  fellow  was  very  happy; 
he  thought  the  war  would  soon  be  over,  that  every- 
thing was  going  right." 

That  summer  Lowell  was  detailed  as  an  aide  to 
McClellan;  at  Antietam,  bearing  orders  for  Sedg- 
wick's  division  and  meeting  it  as  it  was  retreating 
in  confusion,  he  rode  along  the  line,  drove  back 
and  rallied  the  men,  and  checked  what  threatened 
to  be  a  rout.  For  the  gallantry  and  the  quality  of 

177 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

leadership  that  he  thus  exhibited,  McClellan  chose 
him  to  present  to  the  President  the  trophies  of  the 
campaign;  and  Lowell  bore  to  Washington  the 
thirty-nine  colors  taken  from  the  enemy. 

In  the  autumn  he  was  ordered  to  report  to  Gov- 
ernor Andrew  of  Massachusetts,  to  organize  the 
Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  of  which  he  was 
appointed  colonel.  The  work  of  organization  kept 
him  in  Boston  until  the  spring  of  1863.  The  appoint- 
ment of  Robert  Gould  Shaw  to  command  the  54th 
Massachusetts,  the  negro  regiment,  deprived  him  of 
one  of  his  best  officers,  but  he  heartily  approved 
the  appointment.  "  It  is  very  important  that  the 
regiment  should  be  started  soberly  and  not  spoilt 
by  too  much  fanaticism,"  he  wrote.  "  Shaw  is  not 
a  fanatic."  About  this  time  Lowell  became  engaged 
to  Shaw's  sister,  whom  he  married  in  the  autumn. 

While  he  was  organizing  the  Second  Cavalry,  a 
serious  mutiny  broke  out  at  the  barracks;  the  men 
attacked  their  officers  with  drawn  swords.  Lowell 
shot  and  killed  the  ringleader  in  the  act  of  slashing 
at  a  lieutenant.  He  immediately  reported  to  the 
Governor,  who  said:  "  I  need  nothing  more;  Colonel 
Lowell  is  as  humane  as  he  is  brave." 

In  May  he  left  Boston  with  his  regiment  and  went 
to  Virginia,  where  for  some  time  he  endeavored  to 

178 


Sr*V       *    '  i.  .',£  .•  \'; 


' 


1 


Memorial  Hall 


HARVARD   IN  THE  WAR 

check  the  incursions  of  Mosby  and  his  troopers. 
Mosby  wrote  afterwards  that  of  all  the  Federal 
commanders  opposed  to  him  Colonel  Lowell  was 
the  one  for  whom  he  had  the  highest  respect. 

Passages  from  letters  written  at  this  period  reveal 
the  young  commander's  growing  maturity: 

"  A  man  is  meant  to  act  and  to  undertake,  to 
try  to  succeed  in  his  undertakings,  to  take  all  means 
which  he  thinks  necessary  to  success:  but  he  must 
not  let  his  undertakings  look  too  large  and  make  a 
slave  of  him.  Still  less  must  he  let  the  means.  He 
must  keep  free  and  grow  integrally. 

"  I  feel  every  day,  more  and  more,  that  a  man 
has  no  right  to  himself  at  all;  that,  indeed,  he  can 
do  nothing  useful  unless  he  recognizes  this  clearly. 
We  were  counting  over  the  '  satisfactory  '  people 
of  our  acquaintance  the  other  day,  and  very  few 
they  were.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  change  in  public 
affairs  [the  war]  has  entirely  changed  my  standard, 
and  that  men  whom  ten  years  ago  I  should  have 
almost  accepted  as  satisfactory  now  show  lamentably 
deficient.  Men  do  not  yet  seem  to  have  risen  with 
the  occasion;  and  the  perpetual  perception  of  this 
is  uncomfortable.  It  is  painful  here  to  see  how 
sadly  personal  motives  interfere  with  most  of  our 
officers'  usefulness.  After  the  war  how  much  there 

179 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

will  be  to  do,  and  how  little  opportunity  a  fellow 
in  the  field  has  to  prepare  himself  for  the  sort  of 
doing  that  will  be  required!  It  makes  me  quite 
sad  sometimes;  but  then  I  reflect  that  the  great 
secret  of  doing,  after  all,  is  in  seeing  what  is  to  be 
done. 

"  Yesterday  we  took  a  little  fellow  only  sixteen 
years  old.  He  had  joined  one  of  these  gangs  [bush- 
whackers] to  avoid  the  conscription,  which  is  very 
sweeping.  He  told  us  all  he  knew  about  the  company 
to  which  he  belonged;  but  he  was  such  a  babe  that 
it  seemed  mean  to  question  him." 

In  July,  1864,  Lowell  was  given  the  command  of  a 
brigade  containing,  besides  his  own  regiment,  rep- 
resentatives of  every  cavalry  regiment  in  the  serv- 
ice. With  this  patchwork  following,  which  he  soon 
welded  with  wonderful  skill  into  a  strong  fighting 
organization,  he  joined  Sheridan's  Army  of  the 
Shenandoah.  On  August  16,  Sheridan  began  to 
retire  down  the  Valley,  Lowell's  brigade  protecting 
his  rear;  and  from  the  sixteenth  till  the  thirty-first 
the  brigade  was  fighting  every  day.  On  the  twenty- 
sixth  Lowell  led  a  brilliant  attack,  in  which  his 
Massachusetts  regiment  captured  seventy-four  men. 
Sheridan  then  showed  his  admiration  of  Lowell's 
leadership  by  appointing  him  to  the  command  of  the 

180 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

Reserve  Brigade,  the  best  cavalry  brigade  in  the 
service.  It  consisted  of  three  regiments  of  regular 
cavalry,  one  of  artillery,  and  Lowell's  own  volunteer 
regiment  —  the  regiment  that  had  mutinied  at  the 
outset  and  that  his  skilful  handling  had  now  brought 
to  this  perfection. 

At  Winchester  on  September  19,  Lowell  with  a 
captain  and  four  men  charged  a  Confederate  gun 
and  captured  it  —  though  the  gun  was  fired,  the 
horses  of  the  two  officers  killed,  and  the  captain's 
arm  torn  off.  "  A  little  more  spunk,"  said  Lowell 
in  commenting  on  the  incident,  "  and  we  should 
have  had  all  their  colors." 

Thirteen  horses  were  shot  under  him  in  as  many 
weeks.  But  he  was  more  than  the  daring  and  dash- 
ing cavalryman.  "  In  whatever  position  Lowell  was 
placed,"  said  a  fellow  officer,  "  it  always  seemed  to 
those  around  him  that  he  was  made  for  just  that 
work."  So  it  had  been  in  college,  where  he  had 
mastered  languages  and  sciences  with  equal  ease  and 
equal  zeal.  He  was  young,  and  he  looked  even 
younger  than  he  was.  But  his  men,  who  had  now 
learned  to  know  him,  adored  him  and  followed  him 
with  enthusiasm  and  with  confidence. 

He  wrote  of  Sheridan:  "  I  like  him  immensely. 
Whether  he  succeeds  or  fails,  he  is  the  first  general 

181 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

I  have  seen  who  puts  as  much  heart  and  time  and 
thought  into  his  work  as  if  he  were  doing  it  for  his 
own  exclusive  profit.  He  works  like  a  mill-owner  or 
an  iron-master,  not  like  a  soldier.  Never  sleeps, 
never  worries,  is  never  cross,  but  isn't  afraid  to  come 
down  on  a  man  who  deserves  it." 

His  own  ripening  ideals  appear  in  a  letter  that  he 
wrote  to  Major  Henry  L.  Higginson,  then  disabled: 
"  I  hope  that  you  have  outgrown  all  foolish  ambitions, 
and  are  now  content  to  become  a  '  useful  citizen. ' 
.  .  .  Don't  grow  rich;  if  you  once  begin,  you  will 
find  it  much  more  difficult  to  be  a  useful  citizen.  .  .  . 
There,  what  a  stale  sermon  I'm  preaching!  But 
being  a  soldier,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  I  should 
like  nothing  so  well  as  being  a  useful  citizen.  Well, 
trying  to  be  one,  I  mean.  I  shall  stay  in  the  service, 
of  course,  till  the  war  is  over,  or  till  I'm  disabled; 
but  then  I  look  forward  to  a  pleasanter  career.  I 
believe  I  have  lost  all  my  ambitions.  I  don't  think 
I  would  turn  my  hand  to  be  a  distinguished  chemist 
or  a  farhous  mathematician.  All  I  now  care  about 
is  to  be  a  useful  citizen,  with  money  enough  to  buy 
bread  and  firewood,  and  to  teach  my  children  to 
ride  on  horseback  and  look  strangers  in  the  face,  — 
especially  Southern  strangers!" 

On  October  15,  Sheridan  left  his  army  intrenched 
182 


HARVARD  IN  THE   WAR 

near  Cedar  Creek  and  went  to  visit  Front  Royal 
and  other  points  in  the  Valley.  In  the  dawn  of  the 
nineteenth,  the  Confederates  surprised  the  left  of 
the  line  and  drove  it  headlong  down  the  Valley  - 
until  at  noon  Sheridan  came  galloping  from  Win- 
chester. Meanwhile  Lowell  had  led  his  Reserve 
Brigade  from  the  right  of  the  field  to  the  left,  a 
distance  of  three  miles,  and  was  covering  the  re- 
treat. He  established  himself  at  the  extreme  left 
and  maintained  his  position  against  a  greatly  su- 
perior force.  Riding  back  and  forth  along  the  line 
of  his  skirmishers,  he  was  a  conspicuous  mark  for 
the  sharpshooters  on  the  roofs  of  the  village.  At 
one  o'clock  a  spent  ball  struck  him  in  the  right  breast, 
over  his  bad  lung,  and  though  the  bullet  did  not. 
break  the  skin,  the  blow  caused  internal  hemorrhage 
and  deprived  him  of  breath  and  voice.  For  an  hour 
and  a  half  he  lay  on  the  ground.  Then  came  Sheri- 
dan's order  to  begin  an  advance  all  along  the  line  - 
the  advance  that  was  destined  to  give  the  Union 
troops  the  victory.  "  I  feel  well  now,"  Lowell 
whispered,  and  insisted  on  being  helped  into  his 
saddle  that  he  might  take  part  in  the  charge.  He 
gave  his  orders  through  a  member  of  his  staff;  his 
brigade  swept  forward  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight, 
he  at  the  head  of  it,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  fell 

183 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

mortally  wounded.  He  lived  long  enough  to  know 
that  the  Union  troops  had  won  the  battle  —  not 
long  enough  to  receive  his  commission  as  brigadier- 
general,  signed  the  day  he  died. 

Less  illustrious,  yet  no  less  heroic  is  the  story  of 
Charles  Brooks  Brown,  of  the  class  of  '56.  He  was 
one  of  eleven  children;  the  family,  who  lived  in 
Cambridge,  were  in  humble  circumstances.  He 
worked  his  way  through  college  —  kept  school  in 
winter,  acted  as  monitor,  wrote  sermons  or  theo- 
logical discourses  for  religious  newspapers,  novel- 
ettes for  weekly  papers,  conundrums  for  prize  offers. 
After  graduation,  he  studied  law  and  then  went  to 
Springfield,  Illinois,  to  practise.  There  he  became 
known  to  Abraham  Lincoln;  he  made  speeches  for 
Lincoln  in  the  campaign  of  1858.  It  was  chiefly 
because  of  what  Brown  told  him  of  the  place  that 
Lincoln  decided  to  send  his  son  to  Harvard. 

After  a  year  and  a  half  in  Springfield,  Brown  came 
back  to  Boston.  On  the  morning  of  April  17,  1861, 
he  left  his  home  in  Cambridge  to  go  to  his  office, 
but  learning  that  a  Cambridge  company  of  volun- 
teers was  starting  for  the  South  that  day,  he  joined 
them.  That  night  he  was  on  a  steamer  bound  for 
Fortress  Monroe  —  a  private  in  the  Third  Massa- 
chusetts. He  served  with  his  company  at  Fortress 

184 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

Monroe  during  the  three  months'  campaign,  re- 
ceived his  discharge  July  22,  1861,  and  came  home. 

But  after  Bull  Run  he  could  stay  at  home  no 
longer.  He  looked  about  for  a  regiment  likely  soon 
to  get  into  action,  and  in  August  enlisted  as  a  private 
in  the  Nineteenth  Massachusetts.  He  soon  became 
a  sergeant. 

He  had  chosen  his  regiment  well,  for  the  Nine- 
teenth Massachu setts  saw  plenty  of  fighting.  At 
the  battle  of  Fair  Oaks  in  June,  1862,  Brown  was 
wounded  in  the  leg.  He  fought  on  for  some  time 
after  being  struck;  then,  using  his  gun  as  a  crutch, 
he  hobbled  from  the  field.  He  was  sent  to  the  U.  S. 
General  Hospital  at  David's  Island,  New  York, 
and  was  detained  there  until  October  15.  In  No- 
vember he  rejoined  his  regiment,  shortly  before 
the  battle  of  Fredericksburg,  The  regiment  had 
been  presented  with  a  new  stand  of  colors,  to  re- 
place those  that  had  been  sent  home  stripped  and 
torn  by  bullets.  At  Fredericksburg  the  new  colors 
had  fourteen  holes  shot  through  them,  and  were 
carried  by  eleven  different  men,  nine  of  whom  were 
filled  or  wounded  within  an  hour.  Brown  was  the 
seventh  man  to  seize  them,  was  wounded  in  the 
head,  refused  to  give  up  the  colors,  and  rushing  out 
in  advance  of  the  line,  staggered  and  fell,  driving 

185 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  color-lance  into  the  earth.  The  wound  that 
to  his  comrades  had  seemed  mortal  proved  not  to  be 
serious,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was  on  duty  again. 

The  next  spring,  though  he  was,  as  he  wrote, 
"  in  full  enjoyment  of  the  blessings  of  fever  and  ague 
and  rheumatism,"  he  refused  to  accept  the  surgeon's 
advice  and  go  on  the  sick  list.  At  the  battle  of 
Chancellorsville  he  volunteered  for  dangerous  service 
and  performed  it.  After  the  battle,  against  his 
protestations,  he  was  sent  to  the  hospital  at  Chest- 
nut Hill,  Philadelphia.  He  was  restless  at  being 
absent  from  the.  regiment,  but  he  wrote  to  con- 
gratulate a  brother  on  not  being  drafted,  for  he 
thought  that  in  sending  three  sons  to  the  war  the 
family  were  doing  their  share. 

In  November,  1863,  he  rejoined  his  regiment.  In 
December  he  had  to  decide  whether  or  not  to  re- 
enlist.  He  had  been  in  practically  continuous  serv- 
ice since  the  very  outbreak  of  the  war,  had  been  twice 
wounded,  was  broken  in  health,  and  was  a  soldier 
in  a  regiment  of  such  gallant  reputation  that  it 
was  always  sure  to  be  sent  into  the  thickest  of  the 
fight.  With  his  ability,  education,  and  opportuni- 
ties, Brown  could  easily  have  obtained  a  commission 
in  another  regiment;  he  could  easily  have  obtained 
an  honorable  discharge.  But  he  resolved  to  stay 

186 


HARVARD  IN  THE   WAR 

with  the  regiment  until  the  end  of  the  war  and  to 
win  a  commission  in  it  or  not  at  all.  So  he  re-en- 
listed in  the  ranks. 

Just  as  the  campaign  in  the  Wilderness  began, 
he  received  an  appointment  as  first  lieutenant;  he 
put  the  document  in  his  pocket,  and  still  as  a  private 
went  into  the  bloody  fighting  of  that  terrible  cam- 
paign. On  May  12,  1864,  leading  his  company  in 
Hancock's  charge,  at  Spottsylvania  Court-House,  he 
was  struck  by  a  shell. 

He  knew  that  his  wounds  were  mortal;  he  drew 
from  his  pocket  his  unused  commission  as  lieutenant, 
now  stained  with  his  blood,  and  a  photograph  of  the 
girl  to  whom  he  had  become  engaged  during  his 
month's  furlough  after  re-enlistment;  he  asked 
the  comrades  who  came  up  to  send  them  home  with 
the  news  of  his  death.  His  brother  James  was 
wounded  in  the  same  battle  and  died  the  same  day. 
The  girl  to  whom  Brown  was  engaged  was  pros- 
trated, fell  ill  of  consumption,  and  died  six  months 
later  with  his  name  on  her  lips. 

Strong  Vincent,  '59,  of  Erie,  Pennsylvania,  was 
big,  handsome,  and  popular  —  one  of  the  marshals 
of  his  class.  After  graduation,  he  read  law  in  Erie. 
At  the  first  call  for  volunteers  he  enlisted  in  the 
Wayne  Guards  and  married  immediately  the  girl 

187 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

to  whom  for  some  time  he  had  been  engaged.  His 
wife  accompanied  him  to  Pittsburg,  where  the 
Wayne  Guards  remained  during  the  three  months 
of  their  enlistment.  Then  Vincent  assisted  in 
raising  the  Eighty-third  Pennsylvania  and  was 
made  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  regiment.  He  was 
dangerously  ill  when  the  battle  of  Games'  Mills  be- 
gan, in  which  more  than  half  his  regiment  were  killed 
or  wounded.  The  colonel  and  the  major  were  both 
killed.  Hearing  this,  Vincent  rose  from  his  bed, 
mounted  a  horse,  and  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his 
men.  His  example  inspired  them,  but  soon  he 
reeled  from  his  horse;  he  was  put  into  an  ambulance 
and  then  sent  on  a  sick-transport  down  the  James 
River  and  up  to  New  York.  Finally  he  was  taken 
home  to  Erie;  but  on  October  I  he  rejoined  his 
regiment  as  its  colonel.  At  Fredericksburg  he  was 
in  command  of  a  brigade.  He  was  made  president 
of  a  general  court-martial,  and  was  offered  the 
position  of  judge-advocate  general  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  but  he  declined  the  honor,  preferring 
active  service  with  the  troops. 

At  Gettysburg,  again  commanding  a  brigade,  he 
was  sent  to  seize  Little  Round  Top,  and  to  hold  it 
and  the  ravine  between  it  and  Big  Round  Top. 
His  disposition  of  his  troops  was  most  skilful. 

188 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

Standing  on  a  huge  boulder  from  which  he  might 
survey  and  direct  operations,  a  target  for  all  the 
guns  of  the  attacking  force,  he  was  mortally  wounded. 
The  appointment  of  brigadier-general  was  sent  to 
him  the  next  day,  but  did  not  reach  him  before  he 
died. 

Edward  Gardner  Abbott  and  Henry  Livermore 
Abbott,  brothers  and  members  of  the  class  of  1860, 
both  met  chivalrous  deaths.  Edward  Abbott, 
captain  in  the  Second  Massachusetts,  was  killed 
at  Cedar  Mountain  while  exposing  himself  in  order 
to  steady  his  men.  Henry  Abbott,  second  lieu- 
tenant in  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts,  was  shot 
through  the  arm  at  Glendale,  but  went  on  fighting, 
and  fought  through  the  next  day  at  Malvern  Hill. 
With  his  company  of  sixty  men  he  led  his  regiment 
when  it  cleared  the  main  street  of  Fredericksburg; 
thirty-five  of  his  sixty  fell  under  the  Confederates' 
terrific  fire.  At  Gettysburg  the  Twentieth  again 
lost  heavily;  at  the  end  of  the  battle  Abbott,  then 
major,  found  himself  in  command.  In  the  battle 
of  the  Wilderness  he  was  mortally  wounded;  dying, 
he  directed  that  all  the  money  he  left  should  be  used 
for  the  relief  of  widows  and  orphans  of  the  regi- 
ment. 

Robert  Gould  Shaw,  also  of  the  class  of  '60,  had 
189 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

grown  up  a  rather  timid,  very  sensitive  and  affec- 
tionate boy.  He  was  fond  of  music  and  of  sketching. 
In  college  he  was  an  active  member  of  the  Pierian 
Sodality,  an  organization  devoted  to  music.  He 
took  no  rank  as  a  scholar  —  never  stood  in  the 
first  half  of  his  class. 

In  April,  1861,  he  marched  with  the  Seventh  New 
York  to  Washington.  The  call  for  the  Seventh  was 
for  only  thirty  days;  at  the  end  of  that  time  he 
applied  for  and  obtained  a  commission  as  second 
lieutenant  in  the  Second  Massachusetts.  Almost 
immediately  he  saw  hard  fighting.  Of  the  battle 
of  Cedar  Mountain  he  wrote:  "  Goodwin,  Gary, 
Choate,  and  Stephen  Perkins  [all  college  mates] 
were  all  quite  ill,  but  would  not  stay  away  from  the 
fight.  Choate  was  the  only  one  of  the  four  not 
killed.  Goodwin  couldn't  keep  up  with  the  regi- 
ment; but  I  saw  him  toiling  up  the  hill  at  some  dis- 
tance behind  with  the  assistance  of  his  servant. 
He  hardly  reached  the  front  when  he  was  killed. 
All  our  officers  behaved  nobly.  Those  who  ought 
to  have  stayed  away  didn't.  It  was  splendid  to 
see  those  sick  fellows  walk  straight  up  into  the 
shower  of  bullets  as  if  it  were  so  much  rain;  men 
who,  until  this  year,  had  lived  lives  of  perfect  ease 
and  luxury." 

190 


HARVARD   IN  THE   WAR 

After  the  battle  of  Antietam,  having  gone  about 
among  the  wounded,  he  wrote:  "There  are  so 
many  young  boys  and  old  men  among  the  Rebels 
that  it  seems  hardly  possible  that  they  can  have 
come  of  their  own  accord  to  fight  us;  and  it  makes 
you  pity  them  all  the  more  as  they  lie  moaning  on 
the  field."  And  later  he  wrote:  "  This  life  gradually 
makes  us  feel  that,  so  far  as  a  man  himself  is  con- 
cerned, he  may  as  well  die  now  as  a  few  years  hence; 
but  I  never  see  one  killed  without  thinking  of  the 
people  he  leaves  at  home;  that  is  the  sad  part  of  it." 

January  30,  1863,  Governor  Andrew  wrote  to 
him  as  follows:  "  I  am  about  to  organize  in  Massa- 
chusetts a  colored  regiment  as  part  of  the  volunteer 
quota  of  this  State,  —  the  commissioned  officers  to 
be  white  men.  I  have  to-day  written  to  your  father, 
expressing  to  him  my  sense  of  the  importance  of 
this  undertaking  and  requesting  him  to  forward  to 
you  this  letter,  in  which  I  offer  you  the  commission 
of  colonel  over  it.  The  lieutenant-colonelcy  I  have 
offered  to  Captain  Hallowell  of  the  2Oth  Massa- 
chusetts regiment.  It  is  important  to  the  organi- 
zation of  this  regiment  that  I  should  receive  your 
reply  to  this  offer  at  the  earliest  day  consistent  with 
your  ability  to  arrive  at  a  deliberate  conclusion  on 
the  subject." 

191 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Shaw  hesitated;  he  distrusted  his  abilities,  he  liked 
the  service  with  the  Second  Massachusetts  among 
officers  and  men  who  were  his  friends,  and  he  was  no 
doubt  reluctant  to  leave  it  for  the  command  of  col- 
ored troops  and  the  social  ostracism  to  which  such 
an  exchange  would  subject  him  in  some  quarters. 
But  the  governor's  request  seemed  to  impose  on  him 
a  duty;  he  accepted  the  commission,  went  to  Boston, 
and  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  work  of 
organizing  and  drilling  the  Fifty-fourth  Massachu- 
setts. On  May  2,  he  was  married;  on  May  28  he 
sailed  from  Boston  with  his  regiment,  and  his  bride 
of  a  little  more  than  three  weeks  never  saw  him 
again. 

With  him  went  as  second  lieutenant  young  Cabot 
Jackson  Russel,  of  the  class  of  '65.  The  first  act  in 
which  the  negro  regiment  had  to  participate  after 
landing  on  Port  Royal  Island  was  the  burning  of  the 
defenceless  town  of  Darien,  Georgia.  Shaw  obeyed 
the  orders  of  his  superior  commanding  officer  in  this 
matter  most  unwillingly,  and  young  Russel  wrote: 
"  This  is  not  the  sort  of  work  I  came  for,  nor  do  I 
believe  it  good  work,  but  it  is  not  for  me  to  criti- 
cize." 

On  Saturday,  July  1 8,  General  Strong,  commanding 
the  Union  troops  in  front  of  Fort  Wagner,  offered 

192 


HARVARD  IN  THE   WAR 

Shaw  the  post  of  honor  in  the  suicidal  assault.  Now 
this  is  what  Shaw  and  his  regiment  had  passed 
through  in  the  two  preceding  days:  Thursday, 
July  16,  they  were  engaged  in  a  fight  on  James 
Island  —  the  first  fighting  that  they  had  been  in 
—  and  beat  back  the  enemy  gallantly.  That  evening 
at  nine  o'clock  they  left  James  Island  and  marched 
to  Cole's  Island,  which  they  reached  at  four  in  the 
morning;  it  rained,  thundered,  and  lightened  all 
night.  Upon  their  arrival  at  Cole's  Island  they  lay 
round  all  day  —  a  day  that  Shaw  described  in  his 
last  letter:  "There  is  hardly  any  water  to  be  got 
here,  and  the  sun  and  sand  are  dazzling  and  roast- 
ing us."  They  had  no  food  except  the  hardtack 
and  coffee  in  their  haversacks.  From  eleven  o'clock 
Friday  night  until  four  o'clock  Saturday  morning, 
again  under  a  pelting  rain,  they  were  being  put  on 
board  a  transport  from  a  boat  that  took  out  about 
fifty  at  a  time.  They  breakfasted  on  what  was  left 
of  their  hardtack,  and  they  had  no  other  food  all 
that  day.  The  transport  left  Cole's  Island  at  six 
in  the  morning  and  landed  the  troops  at  Pawnee 
Landing  at  half-past  nine.  Thence  they  marched 
to  the  point  opposite  Morris  Island,  arriving  at 
about  two  in  the  afternoon.  A  steamer  took  them 
across  the  inlet;  they  reached  General  Strong's 

193 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

headquarters  at  six  o'clock.     Immediately  General 
Strong  offered  them  the  brunt  of  the  attack. 

Shaw  was  not  twenty-six  years  old.  But  he  was 
no  longer  the  timid  youth  who  had  shrunk  from  the 
football  scrimmages  on  the  Delta.  He  formed  his 
regiment  in  line  of  battle,  and  when  at  half-past 
seven  the  order  was  given,  he  led  the  charge.  A 
hundred  yards  from  the  fort,  the  negroes  faltered 
under  the  scathing  fire;  but  Shaw,  waving  his  sword 
and  shouting,  "  Forward,  Fifty-fourth!  "  rallied 
them,  and  they  followed  him  devotedly.  He  was 
himself  one  of  the  first  to  scale  the  walls.  On  the 
ramparts  he  was  shot  dead  and  fell  inside  the 
fort. 

Brigadier-General  Haygood,  the  Confederate  com- 
mander, made  this  statement:  "  I  knew  Colonel 
Shaw  before  the  war,  and  then  esteemed  him.  Had 
he  bveen  in  command  of  white  troops,  I  should  have 
given  him  an  honorable  burial.  As  it  is,  I  shall 
bury  him  in  the  common  trench,  with  the  negroes 
that  fell  with  him." 

This  was  done;  and  the  Confederate  general 
thus  provided  for  the  body  of  his  former  friend  what 
Thomas  Hughes  justly  termed  "  the  grandest 
sepulchre  earned  by  any  soldier  of  the  century." 

Robert  Shaw  was  not  the  only  white  officer  who 
194 


HARVARD  IN  THE  WAR 

earned  that  burial.  Here  are  the  words  in  which 
one  who  knew  Cabot  Russel  described  his  end: 

"  The  darkness  of  night  hung  over  the  sufferings 
of  that  sacrifice  where  the  noblest  and  the  best, 
appointed  to  lead  black  soldiers  to  death  and  prove 
that  they  were  men,  had  obeyed  the  order.  When 
our  troops  fell  back  from  an  assault  in  which  they 
were  not  supported,  hundreds  of  dead  and  wounded 
marked  how  far  they  had  gone.  Among  those  who 
did  not  return  was  Captain  Russel.  A  ball  struck 
him  in  the  shoulder  and  he  fell.  Captain  Simpkins 
offered  to  carry  him  off.  But  the  boy  had  become  a 
veteran  in  a  moment,  and  the  answer  was,  '  No, 
but  you  may  straighten  me  out.'  As  his  friend,  true 
to  the  end,  was  rendering  this  last  service,  a  bullet 
pierced  his  heart,  and  his  dead  body  fell  over  the 
dying." 

Then  some  of  Russel's  soldiers  wished  to  bear 
him  from  the  field.  But  the  young  officer's  last 
order  was:  "  Do  not  touch  me;  move  on,  men,  fol- 
low your  colors." 

So  they  left  him.    He  was  not  quite  nineteen. 

On  July  21,  1865,  Commemoration  Day  was 
celebrated  at  Harvard  College  in  honor  of  those 
students  and  graduates  who  had  served  in  the  war. 
General  Meade  was  present  and  received  the  degree 

195 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

of  LL.  D.  Among  the  younger  men  of  Harvard  who 
were  there  was  Major-General  William  Francis  Bart- 
lett,  of  the  class  of  '62.  He  had  lost  a  leg  at  the  siege 
of  Yorktown;  a  few  months  later,  returning  to  the 
front  at  the  head  of  the  regiment  of  which  he  had 
been  made  colonel,  he  had  ridden  down  Broadway 
with  his  crutch  strapped  to  his  back;  he  had  been 
wounded  at  Port  Hudson  and  in  the  Wilderness 
and  before  Petersburg;  and  now  at  the  gathering 
before  which  Lowell  read  his  Commemoration  Ode, 
the  president  called  upon  him  in  these  words: 
''  I  introduce  to  you  Major-General  William  Francis 
Bartlett,  —  his  heart  is  left." 


196 


CHAPTER  XII 

PRESIDENT    ELIOT'S    ADMINISTRATION 

/CHARLES  WILLIAM  ELIOT  was  chosen 
V^  President  of  Harvard  by  the  Corporation  in 
September,  1868,  when  he  was  thirty-four  years 
old.  The  votaries  of  a  classical  education  dis- 
trusted the  young  professor  of  chemistry;  the  Over- 
seers felt  that  an  older  man  was  needed,  and  twice 
vetoed  the  election.  But  the  Corporation  stood 
firm,  and  in  May,  1869,  the  Overseers  accepted 
their  choice. 

In  his  inaugural  address,  the  young  president  did 
not  conciliate  those  who  had  opposed  him.  It  was 
a  departure  from  the  usual  suave  and  colorless 
disquisition  produced  for  such  an  occasion;  there 
was  in  it  none  of  the  harmless  pedantry  or  platitu- 
dinous verbiage  which  in  the  middle  of  the  century 
was  wont  to  pass  as  denoting  scholarship.  The  crisp 
and  pungent  declarations  of  the  new  president 
startled  many  of  his  hearers.  "  The  endless  con- 
troversies whether  language,  philosophy,  mathe- 

197 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

matics,  or  science  supply  the  best  mental  training, 
whether  general  education  should  be  chiefly  literary 
or  chiefly  scientific,  have  no  practical  lesson  for  us 
to-day.  This  University  recognizes  no  real  antago- 
nism between  literature  and  science,  and  consents 
to  no  such  narrow  alternatives  as  mathematics 
or  classics,  science  or  metaphysics.  We  would  have 
them  all,  and  at  their  best." 

That  speech  was  the  memorable  utterance  of  a 
strong,  sane  optimist,  a  clear-thinking,  courageous 
leader.  It  was  in  no  idle  spirit  of  vaunting  prophecy 
that  he  declared,  "  The  future  of  the  University 
will  not  be  unworthy  of  its  past." 

During  the  last  fifty  years  the  material  growth 
in  America  has  been  in  all  ways  incalculable.  Ham- 
lets have  become  cities,  deserts  have  been  made 
fertile,  the  forests  that  once  seemed  a  forbidding 
barrier  to  progress  now  have  to  be  cherished  in  the 
name  of  progress,  the  web  of  industry  is  spun  in 
places  and  across  spaces  that  must  have  seemed  un- 
conquerable to  the  men  of  half  a  century  ago.  That 
Harvard  University  should  have  grown  with  the 
times  was  inevitable;  but  its  growth  has  been  greater 
than  that  of  almost  any  standard  for  comparison. 
Playgrounds  have  been  usurped  for  buildings,  and 
wider  playgrounds  have  been  laid  out;  students  and 

198 


PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION 

officers  have  increased  many  times  in  number,  re- 
sources have  been  augmented  enormously,  wealth 
has  been  poured  into  Harvard's  lap;  in  1869  her 
capital  was  about  two  and  a  quarter  millions;  now 
her  income  is  about  two  and  a  quarter  millions. 

With  all  that,  Harvard  is  not  a  rich  university  — 
in  the  sense,  at  least,  of  having  a  comfortable  sur- 
plus after  all  legitimate  needs  are  provided  for. 
She  spends  worthily  every  year  all  that  she  has,  and 
she  always  needs  more.  Her  professors  and  in- 
structors are  not  highly  paid.  If  they  have  no 
other  sources  of  revenue  than  their  salaries,  they 
must  live  with  a  careful  eye  to  the  present  and  an 
anxious  one  to  the  future.  Perhaps  President  Eliot 
was  never  deeply  moved  by  their  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties. To  his  ascetic  and  devoted  spirit,  asceticism 
and  devotion  were  required  of  the  teachers  of 
youth,  and  it  mattered  little  if  they  were  prescribed 
by  poverty  instead  of  being  elective.  The  cost  to 
Harvard  of  each  student's  education  is  not  covered 
by  the  student's  tuition  fee.  This  fact  is,  in  one 
way,  a  burden  that  the  teachers  must  bear,  and  for 
the  most  part  they  bear  it  cheerfully. 

It  is  the  teachers,  not  the  buildings  or  the  athletic 
victories,  that  make  a  college;  and  at  no  time  since 
President  Eliot  took  charge  of  the  university  has 

199 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

Harvard  had  cause  to  fear  for  her  primacy  in  scholar- 
ship. The  names  of  Agassiz  and  Gray  and  Shaler, 
of  Norton  and  Child  and  Lowell,  of  Goodwin  and 
Lane  and  James,  of  Dunbar  and  Hill  dim  the  luster 
of  many  others  that  are  minor  only  because  of  the 
distinguished  juxtaposition  that  they  enjoy.  And  it 
is  to  President  Eliot's  genius  for  securing  the  best 
—  and  eliminating  the  second-rate  —  that  Harvard 
owes  a  teaching  staff  inferior  to  none  in  the  English- 
speaking  world. 

The  Law  School  and  the  Medical  School  had  been 
pursuing  their  comfortable  and  independent  courses. 
Each  institution  had  its  own  treasury,  in  conse- 
quence felt  self-sufficient,  and  was  as  indisposed  as 
it  was  unaccustomed  to  receive  interference  from 
any  outside  authority.  When  President  Eliot 
made  it  manifest  that  he  proposed  to  take  these 
organizations  under  his  control,  their  officers  were 
indignant  and  dismayed. 

But  within  three  years  the  Medical  School  had 
turned  its  finances  over  to  the  college  treasurer, 
and  had  submitted  to  a  complete  revision  of  its 
courses  and  to  an  alteration  of  its  term  time  and 
vacation.  Henceforth,  it  was  a  docile  member  of 
President's  Eliot's  empire. 

So  too  with  the  Law  School.  Here  instruction  had 
200 


PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION 

been  irregular  and  desultory,  no  examinations  were 
held,  and  even  the  good  instructors  were  handi- 
capped by  the  lack  of  system.  President  Eliot 
found  in  the  new  dean,  Professor  Langdell,  an 
able  and  enthusiastic  coadjutor.  The  funds  were 
turned  over  to  the  common  treasury;  students  were 
obliged  to  live  in  Cambridge,  to  attend  recitations 
regularly,  and  to  undergo  examinations;  the  stand- 
ard of  instruction  was  raised  and  the  method  of  it 
altered.  Since  its  reorganization,  the  Law  School 
has  been  one  of  the  most  flourishing  and  important 
departments  of  the  university. 

The  other  schools  are  all,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,, 
monuments  to  President  Eliot;  and  by  the  college 
itself  his  influence  has  been  as  directly  felt.  The 
elective  system,  although  it  had  been  introduced  in 
a  qualified  form  many  years  before  he  took  office, 
will  always  be,  for  Harvard  men,  associated  with 
Eliot's  name.  Its  scope  was  broadened,  new  courses 
were  continually  being  established,  the  methods 
of  instruction  were  revised  and  improved  —  the  aim 
constantly  being  to  make  the  student  think  for  him- 
self and  of  his  own  independent  interest  pursue  the 
truth  to  its  original  sources.  This  ideal  of  education 
was  admirably  adapted  to  the  needs  of  those  under- 
graduates who  were  not  immature,  indolent,  or  in- 

201 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

different,  and  who  came  to  Harvard  meaning  to 
work  as  well  as  to  play.  For  the  more  irresponsible 
members  of  the  college  society,  it  was  perhaps  less 
fruitful  than  the  old-fashioned  daily  recitations  and 
prescribed  curriculum  might  have  been.  A  certain 
number  in  every  class  became  proficient  in  selecting 
courses  that  exacted  the  minimum  amount  of  effort 
for  a  passing  mark;  for  many  years  the  visitor  to 
Harvard  was  sure  to  express  surprise  at  the  number 
of  young  men  who  elected  to  study  Semitic;  and 
there  were  courses  in  Fine  Arts  and  Geology  which 
were  taken  —  quite  plausibly  too  —  with  the  idea 
that  to  sit  under  the  distinguished  professors  who 
gave  them  was,  without  making  further  effort,  to 
acquire  a  liberal  education.  That  there  was  con- 
siderable abuse  of  the  privileges  and  opportunities 
conferred  by  the  elective  system  there  is  no  doubt; 
and  the  present  administration  is  undertaking  to 
prevent  this  by  curtailing  the  freedom  of  choice  in 
the  first  year  and  by  requiring  of  each  student  a 
coherent  plan  of  studies  instead  of  permitting  him 
to  nibble  here  and  there.  The  effort  is  to  make 
every  undergraduate,  as  President  Lowell  has  said, 
"  know  a  little  of  everything  and  one  thing  well." 

President  Eliot's  large-minded  liberality  affected 
the  system  of  discipline  as  well  as  that  of  instruction. 

202 


PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION 

In  1886,  chapel  attendance  was  made  voluntary, 
and  in  other  respects  much  freedom  of  movement 
was  permitted  to  the  student  who  maintained  a  good 
standing  in  his  work. 

In  May,  1865,  at  a  meeting  of  graduates  held  in 
Boston,  a  committee  had  been  appointed  to  report 
on  the  subject  of  a  permanent  memorial  commemora- 
ting the  Harvard  men  who  had  fought  and  died  for 
the  Union.  This  committee  reported  that  a  building 
in  which  statues,  portraits,  and  commemorative 
tablets  might  be  placed  and  which  would  be  a  "  suit- 
able theatre  or  auditorium  for  the  literary  festivals 
of  the  College  "  should  be  constructed.  Funds  were 
quickly  raised,  and  on  October  6,  1870,  the  corner- 
stone of  Memorial  Hall  was  laid,  but  not  until 
Commencement,  1874,  was  the  building  ready  for 
occupancy.  Its  great  dining-hall  and  its  kitchens 
have  furnished  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem of  commons  which  had  vexed  so  many  adminis- 
trations. Its  lofty,  vaulted  transept  with  the  stained- 
glass  windows  and  the  marble  tablets  whereon  are 
recorded  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  names  — 
recent  researches  show  that  there  should  be  one 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  —  is  the  threshold  that 
the  senior  crosses  on  Commencement  Day  to  pass 
out  into  the  world.  Its  auditorium,  Sanders  Theatre, 

203 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

has  been  the  scene  of  many  distinguished  gatherings 
and  has  heard  the  voices  of  many  illustrious  men. 
Perhaps  the  most  memorable  occasion  that  Sanders 
Theatre  has  known  was  that  which  marked  the 
climax  of  the  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary 
of  Harvard  College. 

The  celebration  lasted  for  three  days,  November 
6,  7,  and  8,  1886.  The  first  day,  Saturday,  was 
Undergraduates'  Day;  the  programme  provided 
for  undergraduate  literary  exercises  in  the  morning, 
athletic  sports  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  torchlight 
procession  in  the  evening.  The  first  two  features 
of  this  programme  were  successfully  carried  out, 
but  the  torchlight  procession  had  to  be  postponed 
on  account  of  rain  until  the  evening  of  the  last  day. 
It  had  somewhat  the  character  of  a  pageant.  On  a 
dray  was  a  model  of  the  Harvard  statue,  supported 
by  burlesque  representations  of  a  butcher,  a  cooper, 
and  a  grocer  —  these  having  been  the  father  and  two 
step-fathers  of  John  Harvard,  who  had  eventually 
received  their  accumulated  fortunes.  The  group 
was  labeled:  "Johnnie  Harvard's  Pa's."  An  old 
printing-press  was  carried  on  a  wagon  and  served 
by  an  Indian.  Then  came  a  squad  of  Puritans, 
with  sugar-loaf  hats  and  knee-breeches;  after  them 
the  old  Washington  Corps,  with  blue,  swallow-tailed 

204 


PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION 

coats  and  white  small-clothes.  There  were  various 
impersonators  of  old  Harvard  worthies,  —  Hollis, 
Stoughton,  Holworthy,  and  others.  The  ancient 
Navy  Club,  "  in  which  the  laziest  man  was  high 
admiral,"  was  represented;  "  this  supreme  slug- 
gard," as  the  historian  of  the  occasion  calls  him, 
lay  on  a  red  divan,  dressed  in  admiral's  uniform. 
The  procession  paraded  for  two  hours  and  finally 
ended  at  Holmes  Field,  where  there  was  a  display 
of  fireworks  —  the  climax  being  a  representation 
of  John  Harvard  standing  inside  a  gorgeous  temple. 

The  second  day  of  the  celebration,  Sunday,  was 
Foundation  Day,  the  anniversary  of  the  passage  of 
the  vote  by  the  General  Court  granting  four  hundred 
pounds  for  the  establishment  of  the  college.  Com- 
memoration exercises  were  held  in  Appleton  Chapel. 

On  the  morning  of  Monday,  the  eighth,  Alumni 
Day,  two  thousand  graduates  assembled  in  the 
yard.  President  Cleveland  arrived,  escorted  by  the 
Lancers.  His  carriage  drove  up  to  Gore  Hall, 
where  the  chief  marshal  and  President  Eliot  received 
him.  The  church  bells  rang  and  batteries  on  the 
Common  fired  a  salute.  Then  the  procession  formed 
and  marched  to  Sanders  Theatre.  Lowell  was  the 
orator  of  the  occasion,  and  Holmes  the  poet.  In  his 
address,  Lowell,  one  of  the  conservatives,  questioned 

205 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  wisdom  of  the  elective  system,  humorously:  "  Is 
it  indeed  so  self-evident  a  proposition  as  it  seems  to 
many,  that  '  You  may  '  is  as  wholesome  a  lesson  for 
youth  as  '  You  must?  '  Is  it  so  good  a  fore-school- 
ing for  Life,  which  will  be  a  teacher  of  quite  other 
mood,  making  us  learn,  rod  in  hand,  precisely 
those  lessons  we  should  not  have  chosen?  I  have, 
to  be  sure,  heard  the  late  President  Quincy  (clarum 
et  venerabile  nomen)  say  that  if  a  young  man  came 
hither  and  did  nothing  more  than  rub  his  shoulders 
against  the  College  buildings  for  four  years,  he  would 
imbibe  some  tincture  of  sound  learning  by  an  in- 
voluntary process  of  absorption.  The  founders 
of  the  College  also  believed  in  some  impulsions 
towards  science  communicated  a  tergo,  but  of 
sharper  virtue,  and  accordingly  armed  their  presi- 
dent with  that  ductor  dubitantium  which  was  wielded 
to  such  good  purpose  by  the  Reverend  James  Bowyer 
at  Christ's  Hospital  in  the  days  of  Coleridge  and 
Lamb.  They  believed  with  the  old  poet  that  whip- 
ping was  '  a  wild  benefit  of  nature,'  and  could  they 
have  read  Wordsworth's  exquisite  stanza, 

"  '  One  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood 
Can  teach  us  more  of  man, 
Of  moral  evil  and  of  good 
Than  all  the  sages  can,' 

206 


PRESIDENT  ELIOT'S  ADMINISTRATION 

they  would  have  struck  out  '  vernal  '  and  inserted 
*  birchen  '  on  the  margin." 

That  this  passage  met  with  approval  deeper  than 
that  of  laughter  in  some  of  the  audience  cannot  be 
doubted;  but  the  greatest  applause  came  when  the 
orator  welcomed  Dr.  Mandell  Creighton,  "  who 
brings  the  message  of  John  Harvard's  College, 
Emmanuel.  The  welcome  we  give  him  could  not  be 
warmer  than  that  which  we  offer  to  his  colleagues; 
but  we  cannot  help  feeling  that  in  pressing  his  hand 
our  own  instinctively  closes  a  little  more  tightly,  as 
with  a  sense  of  nearer  kindred." 

After  the  oration  and  the  poem  and  the  conferring 
of  honorary  degrees,  there  was  an  Alumni  banquet 
in  Memorial  Hall.  The  speech-making  was  of  a 
somewhat  livelier  character  than  that  which  had 
distinguished  the  bicentennial  celebration.  Presi- 
dent Cleveland  expressed  his  congratulations,  am- 
bassadors from  other  institutions  paid  their  trib- 
utes, and  Dr.  Creighton  made  a  happy  response  to 
Lowell's  compliment  of  the  morning  when  he  said: 
"  Ten  years  ago  Emmanuel  College  celebrated  the 
three  hundredth  anniversary  of  its  foundation  in 
some  such  way  as  you  are  doing  to-day.  On  that 
occasion  two  distinguished  alumni  of  Harvard  — 
Professor  Lowell  and  Professor  Norton  —  no  less  by 

207 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  dignity  of  their  presence  than  by  the  eloquence  of 
their  speech  almost  succeeded  in  converting  our 
festival  into  a  celebration  of  Harvard  College  in  its 
ancestral  soil  of  England." 


208 


CHAPTER  XIII 

UNDERGRADUATE    ACTIVITIES 

WITH  the  increase  in  freedom  that  marked 
President  Eliot's  administration  there  was 
an  increase  in  the  variety  of  activities  attractive 
to  undergraduates.  In  the  first  half  of  the  century, 
the  competitive  spirit  had  found  almost  no  outlet 
except  in  scholarship;  social  intercourse  with  the 
world  outside  the  college  walls  had  hardly  existed; 
there  had  been  no  athletics;  and  there  had  been 
few  students  with  purses  well  enough  filled  to  com- 
mand luxuries. 

Undergraduate  activities  of  the  recent  and  con- 
temporary generations  may  be  classified  as  three- 
fold —  literary,  social,  and  athletic. 

A  hundred  years  ago  literary  avocations  were  more 
generally  associated  with  the  name  of  culture  than 
they  are  to-day;  the  students  of  Harvard,  trained 
to  express  themselves  in  the  classical  and  orotund 
style  of  the  period,  desired  to  see,  and  to  have  their 
friends  see,  their  compositions  in  print.  So,  not- 

209 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

withstanding  the  smallness  of  the  public  that  could 
be  counted  on  to  support  it,  the  Lyceum,  a  monthly 
periodical,  was  launched  in  1810.  Edward  Everett 
and  Samuel  Gilman,  the  author  of  "  Fair  Harvard," 
were  among  its  editors.  It  lasted  less  than  a  year; 
it  perished  with  this  admonition  from  the  disillu- 
sioned editors:  "  The  legacy  which  we  leave  to  our 
collegiate  posterity  is  our  advice  that  they  enjoy  all 
those  exquisite  pleasures  which  literary  seclusion 
affords,  but  that  they  do  not  strive  to  communicate 
them  to  others." 

Four  college  generations  seem  to  have  been  im- 
pressed by  the  solemnity  of  the  warning;  but  in 
1827  the  Register  was  founded;  its  early  demise 
offered  little  encouragement  to  the  sanguine  souls 
who  three  years  later  started  the  Collegian,  Al- 
though Holmes  contributed  several  excellent  pieces 
to  this  publication,  among  them  "  The  Height  of 
the  Ridiculous,"  it  ran  for  only  six  numbers.  Un- 
daunted by  the  unsuccessful  outcome  of  these  ex- 
periments, some  members  of  the  class  of  1836 
brought  out  a  periodical  which  they  called  Harvard- 
iana.  Lowell  was  one  of  the  editors  and  helped  to 
keep  it  alive  for  three  years.  The  Harvard  Magazine, 
set  afloat  in  1854,  held  its  head  above  water  till 
1864  and  then  was  submerged. 

210 


The  Lampoon  Office  and  the  "Gold  Coast 


In  May,  1866,  the  Advocate,  which  still  maintains 
a  prosperous  existence,  was  founded.  It  is  issued 
fortnightly  and  contains  fiction,  poetry,  essays, 
and  comment  on  matters  of  current  undergraduate 
interest.  The  editors  formerly  held  their  meetings 
in  one  another's  rooms,  but  now  resort  to  the  well 
equipped  sanctum  in  the  Harvard  Union  —  the 
great  university  club.  A  daily  paper,  the  Magenta, 
now  the  Crimson,  was  started  in  1873.  The  Crim- 
son is  a  profitable  and  useful  enterprise  and  makes 
a  good  training  school  for  young  men  who  wish  to 
take  up  newspaper  work.  Like  the  Advocate  and 
the  Monthly,  it  has  offices  in  the  Union.  The  Lam- 
poon, a  humorous  illustrated  paper,  was  founded  in 
1876,  and  in  1885,  the  Monthly,  more  ambitious  in 
its  literary  efforts  than  the  Advocate,  had  its  birth. 
The  Lampoon  has  a  house  of  its  own,  of  an  indi- 
vidual and  admirably  suggestive  style  of  archi- 
tecture, in  Mount  Auburn  Street.  Although  the 
interests  of  these  various  publications  do  not  often 
clash,  rivalry  and  jealousy  are  occasionally  revealed 
in  good-humored  gibes  and  acrimonious  sneers. 
The  Advocate  regards  the  Monthly  as  owlish,  the 
Monthly  looks  upon  the  Advocate  as  trivial,  the 
Crimson  considers  both  of  them  dilettante,  and  the 
Lampoon  chastens  all  three.  The  holiday  on  which 

211 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  Lampoon  issued  what  purported  to  be  the  Crim- 
son and  proved  to  be  a  satirical  burlesque  of  it  is 
historic.  Whatever  venom  charges  the  pens  of  the 
scribes,  their  personal  relations  are  amicable  enough; 
and  the  annual  baseball  game  between  the  Crimson 
and  the  Lampoon  is,  for  the  members  of  the  two 
boards,  one  of  the  pleasing  and  humorous  events 
of  the  year. 

Nowadays  the  criticism  is  often  made  that  too 
many  of  the  young  men  of  our  colleges  have  pre- 
maturely ensconced  themselves  in  the  club  window 
to  look  out  upon  life.  Certainly  at  Harvard  a  num- 
ber of  clubs  assist  their  members  to  acquire  sophis- 
tication and  to  partake  of  non-academic  luxuries. 
The  pursuit  of  these  two  aims  would  no  doubt 
interest  a  certain  proportion  of  young  men  even  if 
there  were  no  clubs  to  facilitate  it;  without  these 
institutions,  which  do  in  varying  degrees  provide 
an  education  in  worldliness,  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge  and  the  enjoyment  of  luxury  would  be 
rather  more  perilous  than  it  now  is.  At  Harvard  the 
man  without  a  club  who  embarks  upon  the  educa- 
tion of  his  senses  is  more  likely  to  become  demoralized 
and  cheapened  than  the  kindred  spirit  with  club 
restraints  and  club  opportunities  to  guide  him. 

It  is  frequently  and  somewhat  stridently  objected 
212 


UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES 

that  the  club  life  at  Harvard  does  not  promote  a 
spirit  of  democracy.  Does  club  life  promote  such 
a  spirit  anywhere?  To  live  in  a  dormitory  de  luxe, 
with  a  private  bath  of  your  own  and  a  swimming 
tank  in  the  basement,  when  the  fellow  that  checks 
off  your  attendance  at  recitations  dwells  in  a  dim 
attic  and  bathes  at  the  gymnasium,  does  not  promote 
a  spirit  of  democracy.  At  Harvard,  as  elsewhere  in 
America,  the  rich  have  grown  richer,  and  the  poor 
are  still  the  poor. 

Clubland  lies  along  the  Gold  Coast.  In  and 
about  this  part  of  Mount  Auburn  Street  are  clus- 
tered the  expensive  dormitories  occupied  by  the 
rich,  and  the  expensive  little  clubs  maintained  by  the 
socially  fortunate  among  the  rich. 

A  hundred  years  ago  it  was  the  custom  for  two 
youths  to  bear  from  the  college  commons  to  the 
weekly  meeting  and  feast  of  the  Hasty  Pudding 
Club  a  great  iron  kettle  rilled  with  hasty  pudding. 
Nowadays  a  club  dinner  is  a  more  formal  matter 
—  or  begins  as  such.  It  is  an  affair  of  evening  dress, 
wines,  liqueurs,  and  good  cigars.  The  Hasty  Pudding 
Club  still  serves  hasty  pudding  at  its  occasional 
gatherings,  —  a  rather  barren  effort  to  maintain  the 
traditions  of  those  early  and  simpler  days.  But  the 
Pudding  has  suffered  a  decline  in  prestige  with  the 

213 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

increase  in  number  and  in  luxury  of  the  smaller 
clubs.  Until  about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century  the  Porcellian  was  the  only  small  club  de- 
voted to  social  and  convivial  purposes.  Then  came 
an  era  of  Greek  letter  fraternities.  The  Harvard 
chapters  finally  withdrew  from  the  parent  organi- 
zations and  became  separate  clubs.  Within  the 
last  few  years  other  small  clubs  have  organized  and 
have  built  themselves  houses  which  by  the  standard 
of  the  eighties  are  extremely  luxurious. 

In  those  days  and  even  later  the  Dickey  was  an 
organization  highly  regarded  by  certain  of  the  under- 
graduates —  partly  because  the  initiation  gave  a 
fellow  in  his  sophomore  year  an  opportunity  to  know 
and  become  known  to  a  number  of  upper  classmen, 
and  partly  because  membership  in  it  was  a  badge 
of  social  distinction.  As  a  club  the  Dickey  never 
amounted  to  anything,  yet  sophomores  were  only 
too  delighted  to  be  dragged  from  their  rooms  at 
night,  hurled  down-stairs  and  kicked  through  the 
streets  at  the  head  of  a  chanting  procession  —  this 
being  the  method  of  apprising  them  of  election  - 
and  then  for  the  better  part  of  a  week  to  lead  a  life 
of  servitude,  bound  to  obey  every  behest  of  any  one 
who  was  a  Dickey  member.  The  pranks  that  they 
were  compelled  to  play  in  public  and  in  private  were 

214 


UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES 

sometimes  ingenious  and  amusing,  sometimes  stupid 
and  vulgar.  The  initiation  had  features  of  brutality 
which  have  been  partially  reformed.  On  the  whole, 
the  Dickey  is  a  senseless  organization,  and  may  be 
expected  before  many  years  to  see  its  own  uselessness 
and  act  upon  it  creditably  in  the  manner  of  two  fresh- 
man clubs,  the  Fencing  and  the  Polo,  which,  being 
made  aware  of  their  pernicious  nature  and  influence, 
disbanded.  The  Dickey  is  a  society  within  a  club, 
being  composed  of  a  certain  proportion  of  the  mem- 
bership of  the  Institute  of  1770  —  that  organization 
formed  originally  to  encourage  and  develop  public 
speaking.  The  Institute  has  a  club-house  —  not  one 
of  the  luxurious  and  modern  type  —  and  clings  to 
a  more  or  less  languishing  existence. 

The  Hasty  Pudding  has  a  club-house,  considered 
very  magnificent  when  built,  some  thirty  years  ago, 
but  regarded  now  as  offering  too  little  to  its  mem- 
bers to  be  attractive.  Its  theatre  and  its  custom 
of  giving  every  year  a  musical  farce,  written  and 
acted  by  members,  keep  it  alive;  but  as  a  place 
of  resort  it  is  little  used.  That  function  has  been 
usurped  by  the  numerous  smaller  clubs,  which  are 
all  prosperous  and  which  have  a  membership  each  of 
from  thirty  to  forty,  drawn  from  the  three  upper 
classes.  These  clubs,  of  which  the  Porcellian  and 

215 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

the  A.  D.  are  the  most  prominent,  have  handsome, 
well-equipped  houses  and  good  libraries;  some  of 
them  have  squash  or  handball  courts.  Living  in  a 
Mount  Auburn  Street  dormitory,  eating  at  a  Mount 
Auburn  Street  club,  and  going  to  the  theatre  with 
a  Mount  Auburn  Street  crowd,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Gold  Coast  aroused  considerable  feeling  by  their 
exclusiveness;  some  of  them  deprecated  the  cleavage 
which  was  becoming  more  and  more  pronounced  be- 
tween them  and  the  rest  of  Harvard  College.  A 
movement  which  had  for  its  slogan,  "  Back  to  the 
Yard!"  was  started,  and  with  some  success,  - 
especially  as  the  Corporation  renovated  the  old 
dormitories  and  made  them  more  attractive.  Now 
men  who  pass  their  sophomore  and  junior  years  in 
Claverly  welcome  an  opportunity  to  live  during  their 
senior  year  in  Holworthy,  the  most  desirable  of  all 
the  dormitories. 

Between  the  clubbed  and  the  unclubbed,  inti- 
macies seldom  are  formed.  Men  may  sit  side  by 
side  in  certain  lecture  courses,  they  may  meet  on  the 
athletic  field,  and  from  such  occasional  proximity 
may  come  to  cherish  a  very  friendly  feeling  for 
each  other;  but  intimate  friendship  results  only  from 
intimate  association.  This  the  club  man  naturally 
has  with  his  club  mates;  and  the  outsider  has  it 

216 


UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES 

with  other  outsiders.  Of  recent  years  there  has 
been  an  increase  in  the  number  of  clubs;  and  there 
are  now  a  good  many  that  are  conducted  on  a  more 
modest  scale  and  so  offer  membership  to  a  less  opu- 
lent class  than  do  those  identified  with  the  Mount 
Auburn  Street  region. 

The  Harvard  Union,  made  possible  by  the  gift  of 
Mr.  Henry  Lee  Higginson,  who  was  the  donor 
also  of  Soldier's  Field,  is  a  club  which  every  member 
of  the  university  may  join;  the  annual  dues  are  ten 
dollars.  It  has  a  very  large  and  fine  building,  with 
a  magnificent  hall,  comfortable  reading-rooms,  pleas- 
ant dining-rooms,  and  a  good  library.  But  its  very 
size  and  comprehensiveness  prevent  it  from  fulfill- 
ing one  of  the  most  important  functions  of  a  club, 
the  promotion  of  friendships.  It  serves  many  useful 
purposes,  it  makes  a  convenient  rallying-point,  but 
there  is  in  it  no  club  feeling  or  life.  It  will  doubtless 
be  otherwise  with  that  adjunct  to  it  opened  in  1912 
-the  Varsity  Club.  For  membership  in  this  all 
who  have  won  their  letter  H  in  any  of  the  major 
sports  are  eligible;  the  dues  are  made  so  low  that 
the  poor  man  may  feel  able  to  meet  them,  and  the 
club  itself  is  attractive  enough  in  its  appointments 
to  induce  and  merit  the  interest  of  the  athlete 
who  may  be  already  a  member  of  the  Porcellian  or 

217 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

the  A.  D.  If  it  fulfils  expectations,  the  Varsity  Club 
will  develop  and  foster  comradeships  begun  on  the 
field,  and  will  be  for  some  men  a  broadening  and 
for  others  a  civilizing  influence. 

The  athletic  rivalry  with  Yale,  which  has  become 
one  of  the  moving  influences  of  Harvard  undergrad- 
uate life,  had  its  origin  in  the  first  Harvard-Yale 
boat  race  in  1852.  In  each  college,  rowing  had  for 
some  years  been  a  popular  sport,  and  there  were 
clubs  that  owned  boats  and  held  races.  In  the 
summer  of  1852  the  Undine  Boat  Club  of  Yale 
challenged  the  Oneida  Boat  Club  of  Harvard,  and 
the  challenge  was  promptly  accepted.  The  adver- 
tising agent  of  the  Boston,  Concord,  and  Montreal 
Railroad  took  charge  of  the  affair;  the  oarsmen  were 
given  free  transportation  to  Centre  Harbor  on 
Lake  Winnipesaukee,  in  New  Hampshire,  and  were 
entertained  during  their  stay  at  the  expense  of  the 
road,  which  "  featured  "  their  contest.  As  a  result 
of  the  advertising  man's  efforts,  on  August  3,  the 
day  of  the  race,  a  considerable  number  of  specta- 
tors assembled  on  the  shore.  Harvard  was  rep- 
resented by  one  eight-oared  boat,  the  Oneida,  Yale 
by  two,  the  Undine  and  the  Shawmut.  The  course 
was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length.  The  Oneida 
won  by  two  lengths  over  the  Shawmut,  and  her  crew 

218 


The  Weld  Boat  House 


UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES 

received  as  a  prize  a  pair  of  black  walnut  oars  orna- 
mented with  silver.  The  Harvard  oarsmen  had 
rowed  only  a  few  times  before  the  race,  "  for  fear 
of  blistering  their  hands." 

This  patriarchal  Harvard  craft  had  been  built 
for  a  race  between  two  clubs  of  Boston  mechanics 
and  had  been  purchased  in  1844  by  some  members 
of  the  class  of  '46.  It  was  about  three  and  a  half 
feet  wide,  and  thirty-seven  feet  long,  and  was  rowed 
on  the  gunwale.  Outriggers  were  used  in  the  next 
race  with  Yale,  in  1855;  the  first  six-oared  shell  was 
made  for  Harvard  in  1857. 

In  the  race  in  1855,  rowed  on  the  Connecticut  at 
Springfield  and  won  by  Harvard,  Alexander  Agassiz, 
the  bow  oar,  steered  the  boat.  The  Harvard  crews 
of  those  days  were  not  composed  exclusively  of  un- 
dergraduates. Thus  Agassiz,  graduating  in  1855, 
rowed  on  the  crews  of  1856,  1857,  and  1858;  and 
the  future  President  Eliot,  though  he  was  of  the 
class  of  '53,  rowed  on  the  crew  of  1858.  But  be- 
tween the  years  1855  and  1859  there  were  no  races 
with  Yale;  the  Harvard  crews  took  part  instead  in 
various  local  regattas,  some  of  them  apparently  of  a 
semi-professional  character;  for  instance,  President 
Eliot's  crew  won  two  money  prizes,  seventy-five 
dollars  in  one  race,  and  a  hundred  dollars  in  another. 

219 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

In  1859  Harvard  and  Yale  met  again  on  the  water, 
this  time  in  a  two  days'  regatta  on  Lake  Quinsiga- 
mond,  at  Worcester.  Harvard  won  the  first  day, 
Yale  won  the  second;  "  at  this,  the  first  defeat  that 
Harvard  had  endured,  the  crew  threw  their  turbans 
into  the  lake  in  disgust,  but  permitted  no  detraction 
from  the  Yale's  success."  Harvard  won  the  race 
of  1860;  then,  during  four  years  of  war  time,  there 
was  no  race.  In  1864,  however,  Harvard  and  Yale 
resumed  aquatic  relations,  again  at  Lake  Quinsiga- 
mond,  and  continued  them  there  annually  until 
1870,  Harvard  winning  five  of  the  seven  races. 
Yale  at  last  became  dissatisfied  with  the  conditions 
and  refused  to  row  any  longer  at  Lake  Quinsigamond. 
In  1871,  chiefly  as  the  result  of  a  misunderstanding, 
there  was  no  race  between  the  two  colleges.  In- 
stead Harvard  took  part  in  a  three-cornered  race 
at  Springfield  with  Brown  and  Massachusetts 
Agricultural  College.  The  Agricultural  crew  won, 
Harvard  coming  in  second;  thenceforth  until  1877 
Harvard  and  Yale  were  rather  unsuccessful  partici- 
pants in  large  intercollegiate  regattas,  held  now  at 
Springfield,  now  at  Saratoga;  Yale  won  only  one  of 
the  races,  and  Harvard  did  not  win  at  all. 

After  the  race  of  1875  at  Saratoga,  in  which  thir- 
teen crews  were  entered,  Yale  withdrew  from  the  in- 

220 


UNDERGRADUATE   ACTIVITIES 

tercollegiate  association  and  challenged  Harvard  the 
next  year  to  a  race.  Harvard  accepted  the  challenge; 
and  on  June  20.  1876,  the  first  eight-oared  race  be- 
tween the  two  colleges  was  rowed  at  Springfield, 
Yale  winning  easily,  owing  to  an  accident  in  the  Har- 
vard boat.  About  a  month  later  the  Harvard  crew  — 
diminished  necessarily  to  six  —  entered  the  intercolle- 
giate six-oared  regatta  and  finished  second  to  Cornell. 
This  was  for  many  years  the  last  appearance  of  a 
Harvard  crew  in  an  intercollegiate  regatta.  The 
dual  contests  with  Yale  henceforth  absorbed  the 
interest  of  Harvard's  best  oarsmen,  except  in  the 
interval  between  1895  an^  1899.  Then  Harvard 
took  part  in  regattas  on  the  Poughkeepsie,  with  no 
conspicuous  success.  After  1885,  for  about  twenty 
years,  Harvard  victories  were  few  and  far  between; 
but  in  1906  a  turn  for  the  better  took  place,  and 
since  that  time  Harvard  has  been  conspicuously  suc- 
cessful on  the  water.  Between  the  years  1852  and 
1912  inclusive  Harvard  and  Yale  rowed  forty-six  dual 
races,  and  each  won  twenty-three. 

But  boating  at  Harvard  does  not  concern  itself 
merely  with  the  competition  of  men  who  want  to  row 
against  Yale.  The  two  boat  clubs,  the  Weld  and 
the  Newell,  have  many  members,  by  no  means  so 
hopeful  of  their  prowess.  Fellows  row  on  club  crews 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

or  class  crews  or  dormitory  crews;  they  go  out  in 
single  shells  or  wherries;  every  bright  spring  after- 
noon, scattered  about  on  the  river  from  the  Arsenal 
to  the  lower  end  of  the  Basin,  there  are  dozens  of 
little  craft  with  bare-backed  oarsmen,  gliding  rhyth- 
mically or  balancing  at  rest. 

Varsity  football  at  Harvard  is  twenty  years 
younger  than  varsity  rowing.  In  1873  tne  Uni- 
versity Football  Association  was  organized;  there 
were  fifteen  men  on  a  team;  the  game  was  one  of 
kicking  almost  exclusively.  The  modern  game  may 
be  said  to  date  from  1880,  when  the  Rugby  rules 
were  adopted.  Harvard,  Princeton,  and  Yale 
formed  a  triangular  league;  in  1889  Harvard  with- 
drew to  enter  into  a  dual  league  with  Yale.  Since 
that  time,  with  the  exception  of  two  years  when 
athletic  relations  with  Yale  were  broken  off,  the 
"  Yale  game  "  has  been  the  greatest  annual  sporting 
event.  In  the  late  eighties  and  early  nineties  it  was 
played  at  Springfield.  The  last  Springfield  game 
was  in  1894  and  is  memorable  as  the  roughest  en- 
counter in  the  history  of  the  two  universities;  it 
was  the  cause  of  the  subsequent  rupture  between 
them.  For  two  years  Harvard  and  Yale  were  in  the 
position  of  playmates  who  do  not  speak;  then  nego- 
tiations led  to  a  resumption  of  friendlier  feelings 

222 


UNDERGRADUATE   ACTIVITIES 

and  athletic  competition.  There  are  now  no  more 
cleanly  played  games  anywhere  than  those  between 
Harvard  and  Yale. 

Baseball  receives  a  less  important  measure  of 
undergraduate  esteem  than  either  football  or  rowing, 
presumably  because  those  who  devote  themselves 
to  it  undergo  less  real  hardship  of  training  than  the 
followers  of  the  other  sports.  The  class  of  '66  had 
the  first  baseball  nine  of  which  there  is  any  record 
at  Harvard,  and  played  a  game  with  the  Brown 
sophomores  in  1863.  Harvard  won,  and  for  a  num- 
ber of  years  the  Harvard  nines  were  almost  invariably 
successful  in  their  important  contests.  It  was  a 
Harvard  captain,  Mr.  F.  W.  Thayer,  of  the  class 
of  '78,  who  invented  the  catcher's  mask  and  by  that 
invention  revolutionized  the  game.  As  in  football 
and  in  rowing,  although  the  contests  with  Yale 
furnish  the  climax  of  the  baseball  season,  there  are 
minor  rivalries  that  give  inferior  degrees  of  skill 
and  an  equal  love  for  the  sport  the  opportunity  to 
express  themselves.  The  class  games  excite  the 
players  to  an  intensity  of  effort  and  provoke  the 
spectators  to  a  ferocity  of  partisanship.  Tin  horns, 
whistles,  and  even  firearms  are  employed  by  some 
of  the  more  ardent  loyalists  of  a  class  to  shatter 
the  nerves  of  the  opposing  team;  the  first  baseman 

223 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

or  the  third  baseman  is  a  mark  for  the  jeers  and 
taunts  of  the  hostile  horde  encamped  along  his 
base-line;  every  batter  is  admonished  derisively 
as  he  stands  at  the  plate.  After  the  game  the  tri- 
umphant class  dances  a  serpentine  about  the  field, 
gathers  at  the  steps  of  the  Locker  Building,  and 
cheers  its  heroes.  There  are  not  many  livelier 
spectacles  of  an  informal  kind  at  Harvard  than  that 
afforded  by  an  inter-class  baseball  game. 

Track  athletics  are  the  fourth  "  major  "  sport. 
The  first  intercollegiate  meet  in  which  Harvard -took 
part  was  in  1876.  Now  her  athletes  of  the  track 
train  for  two  great  occasions,  —  the  intercollegiate 
meet  and  the  dual  meet  with  Yale.  Many  of  them 
begin  to  prepare  themselves  in  the  gymnasium  in  the 
early  winter;  various  indoor  meets  supply  a  stim- 
ulus for  the  drudgery. 

Lacrosse,  soccer,  and  of  course  tennis  have  their 
enthusiasts;  tennis  is  probably  the  most  popular 
of  all  the  sports;  class  tournaments  and  the  college 
championship  tournament  bring  out  every  year  a 
great  number  of  entries. 

It  is  a  gay  and  pleasant  sight  that  you  may  see 
when  you  stroll  along  the  upper  promenade  of  the 
Stadium  on  a  sunny  afternoon  in  May.  Below  in  the 
oval  the  bare-armed,  bare-legged  athletes  in  their 

224 


The  Stadium 


UNDERGRADUATE  ACTIVITIES 

shining  white  are  sprinting  on  the  track,  jumping, 
pole-vaulting;  beyond  on  the  other  side,  the  lacrosse 
team  is  practising  and  perhaps  some  candidates  for 
the  next  autumn's  football  eleven  are  being  tried 
out  in  a  scrimmage  or  at  punting.  On  the  baseball 
field  near  by  the  varsity  nine  is  playing  a  practice 
game  with  the  second,  and  farther  off  you  see  class 
nines  and  scrub  nines  occupying  other  diamonds 
and  hear  the  adjurations  of  the  coaches;  with  ad- 
miring eyes  you  follow  the  quick  and  graceful  move- 
ments of  the  players;  pleasant  to  your  ear  is  the 
satisfying  crack  of  bat  against  ball,  the  comfortable 
thud  of  ball  into  mitt.  But  your  eyes  rove  after 
a  while  beyond  the  ball  games;  the  tennis  courts, 
still  more  distant,  are  alive  with  active  figures,  and 
out  on  the  silvery  river  which  enfolds  the  level 
acres  there  are  boats  gliding,  oars  flashing,  brown 
backs  bending.  Surveying  all  this  from  your  lofty 
point  of  vantage,  you  may  be  willing  to  assert  that 
nowhere  else  in  America  is  there  to  be  observed  such 
a  panorama  of  athletics. 

But  the  most  significant  feature  of  this  scene  is 
not  the  vast  Stadium,  nor  the  playing-fields,  nor  even 
the  multitudinous,  gay-hearted,  light-limbed  activity 
of  vigorous  youth;  it  is  the  slender  marble  shaft 
that  rises  inside  the  gate  and  bears  this  inscription: 

225 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

TO    THE    HAPPY 

MEMORY    OF 

JAMES    SAVAGE 

CHARLES    RUSSELL    LOWELL 

EDWARD    BARRY    DALTON 

STEPHEN    GEORGE    PERKINS 

JAMES    JACKSON    LOWELL 

ROBERT    GOULD    SHAW 

FRIENDS,    COMRADES,    KINSMEN, 

WHO    DIED    FOR    THEIR    COUNTRY, 

THIS    FIELD    IS    DEDICATED    BY 

HENRY    LEE    HIGGINSON 

And  beneath  this  inscription  is  the  stanza: 

"  THOUGH  LOVE  REPINE  AND  REASON  CHAFE, 

THERE  CAME  A  VOICE  WITHOUT  REPLY, 
*  'TIS  MAN'S  PERDITION  TO  BE  SAFE 


Every  youth  in  going  to  his  play  and  in  returning 
from  it  must  pass  that  monitory  monument.  The 
crowds  of  strangers  stream  by  it  on  Class  Day  and 
on  the  afternoons  of  the  great  games.  The  under- 
graduates gather  round  it  to  cheer  their  victorious 
team.  About  it  flow  the  currents  of  the  most 
eager  expectancy  and  the  keenest  excitement  — 
and  in  the  midst  of  these,  by  the  emphasis  of 
contrast,  some  heart  is  receiving  a  new  spiritual 
impulse;  the  six  ennobled  names  and  the  message  of 
Emerson  are  doing  Harvard's  work. 

226 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FRESHMAN    AND    SENIOR 

TWO  days  before  the  opening  of  college  they 
arrive,  the  youths  who  are  starting  out  upon 
their  first  great  adventure.  They  are  to  IDC  recog- 
nized at  sight  as  they  stroll  about  the  college  grounds, 
with  their  young,  downy,  more  or  less  engaging  faces 
and  their  new  clothes  and  their  somewhat  self-con- 
scious air.  They  saunter  composedly,  but  there  is 
furtive  inquiry  in  their  glance;  they  eye  one  another 
with  a  curiosity  and  an  interest  which  they  do  not 
in  these  initial  days  bestow  on  any  other  human 
beings. 

Classmates!  It  is  their  magic  word,  and  for  a 
little  while  it  embraces  the  world  of  their  thoughts. 
Harvard  College  with  its  traditions  and  its  triumphs 
is  a  theme  that  has  excited  them  for  months  past 
and  that  will  grow  dear  and  dearer  to  them  in  the 
months  and  years  to  come,  but  suddenly  its  sig- 
nificance and  importance  are  diminished  or  elimi- 
nated. The  faculty  have  never  been  much  in  their 

227 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

minds;  and  will  never  be  less  so  than  in  these  open- 
ing days.  Sophomores,  juniors,  seniors  appear  as 
vague  phantoms  brushing  across  the  background 
of  their  perspective  and  bearing  no.,  vital  relation 
to  the  stirring  actions  which  fill  the  foreground.  Al- 
though these  stirring  actions  are  themselves  vague 
and  misty  of  definition,  there  is  hardly  a  freshman 
but  believes  implicitly  that  he  has  been  liberated 
upon  a  tumult  of  excitement  and*is  exultant  and 
palpitating  at  the  prospect.  Whatever  the  drama, 
these  classmates,  now  unknown  to  him,  are  to  be 
his  fellow  actors;  and  so  he  peers  at  them  and 
fixes  their  lineaments  in  his  memory  and  learns 
their  names  and  wonders  with  which  his  lot  will 
be  most  intimately  cast. 

While  waiting  confidently  for  the  vortex  of  "  col- 
lege life  "  to  open  up  and  suck  him  in,  the  freshman 
busies  himself  with  furnishing  his  rooms  —  unless 
his  mother  has  already  attended  to  this  for  him. 
He  affixes  a  couple  of  Harvard  flags  to  the  wall, 
distributes  sofa  pillows  bearing  class  numerals 
or  the  lette*  H  upon  his  window-seat,  and  arranges 
pipes  and  tobacco  jar  upon  his  table.  His  furniture 
is  likely  to  be  of  the  Mission  style,  and  —  as  he 
finds  out  before  long  —  less  comfortable  than  it 
looks.  His  library  is  notably  meagre,  but  in  the 

228 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

course  of  the  year  begins  to  manifest  itself  in  ex- 
pensively bound  initial  volumes  of  classic_authors, 
contracted  for  upon  the  instalment  plan  —  an  in- 
discrefion  which  for  the  next  two  years  the  purchaser 
never  ceases  to  deplore.  x 

Having  made  his  room  as  typical  a  college  room 
as  he  can  and  being  pleased  with  the  result,  the 
freshman  desires  to  display  it  to  a  classmate.  It 
is  probable  that  he  does  not  come  to  college  quite 
unfriended  and  alone;  if  he  does  not,  he  is  very 
soon  dispensing  hospitality,  passing  cigarettes  and 
pipe  tobacco  round  a  circle  of  fellows  whom  he 
is  already  enthusiastically  pronouncing  "  perfectly 
bully."  If  he  happens  to  come  to  college  without 
knowing  any  one,  he  probably,  within  a  day  or  so, 
will  have  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  some  youth 
who  has  seemed  as  lonely  as  himself  and  whose  face 
appeals  to  him  as  attractive.  With  one  or  two  friends 
of  the  right  sort  to  exchange  confidences  with,  the 
freshman  is  prepared  for  his  career  in  the  college 
world. 

The  question  is,  of  course,  what  are  the  right  sort. 
Generally  speaking,  they  ought  to  be  those  who  are 
of  one's  own  sort.  Yet  this  classification  is  some- 
what unsatisfactory  and  inadequate.  It  might  be 
an  excellent  thing  for  the  young  man  with  the  auto- 

229 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

mobile  to  choose  for  one  of  his  intimate  friends  the 
youth  who  has  to  work  his  way  through  college;  it 
might  conceivably  be  an  excellent  thing  for  the 
indigent  youth  also.  The  unfortunate  fact  is, 
however,  that  in  the  early  stages  of  a  college  career 
friendships  are  determined,  more  or  less  of  necessity, 
by  a  man's  possessions  and  disbursements.  The 
freshman  who  can  command  luxury  and  expensive 
amusements  requires  companionship  to  enjoy  them. 
Many  wealthy  parents  send  their  boys  to  college 
with  what  they  regard  as  a  moderate  allowance  and 
with  an  earnest  wish  that  their  sons  lead  a  simple 
and  democratic  life.  Yet  at  the  same  time  they 
wish  their  boys  to  be  well  dressed,  well  housed,  well 
fed,  to  have  all  the  comforts  of  home  and  not  to  be 
placed  in  a  position  of  social  inferiority.  The  com- 
forts and  the  amusements  which  the  freshman  of 
easy  circumstances  requires  are  various  and  costly; 
his  surroundings  remove  him  for  a  time  from  the 
possibility  of  intimate  contact  with  the  boy  of  scanty 
resources.  In  the  beginning  of  college  life,  friend- 
ships are  formed  in  the  pursuit  of  amusement  rather 
than  in  the  pursuit  of  work.  The  theatre,  the  club 
table,  the  expensive  suite  of  rooms,  frequent  auto- 
mobiles and  taxicabs,  occasional  little  dinners  with 
wine  —  indulgence  in  these  luxuries  certainly  assists 

230 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

the  freshman  to  acquire  acquaintances  and  to  en- 
large the  circle  of  his  friends,  yet  at  the  same  time 
it  limits  him  to  the  companionship  of  the  luxurious. 

Having  acquired  a  satisfactory  number  of  con- 
genial friends  and  acquaintances,  having  established 
a  reputation  for  liberality  with  the  head  waiters  at 
one  or  two  Boston  hotels,  having  occupied  a  box  with 
a  few  choice  spirits  at  a  musical  show,  and  having 
sat  up  till  an  early  morning  hour  at  a  poker  game  — 
having  in  general  demonstrated  that  he  is  a  free 
man,  under  no  galling  supervision,  the  freshman,  if 
he  is  of  the  right  sort,  experiences  a  sense  of  dis- 
satisfaction and  discontent.  These  activities  have 
all  been  new  and  exciting  in  their  way,  but  they  have 
not  particularly  identified  him  with  college  life  or 
with  the  interests  of  his  class.  If  the  freshman  is 
of  the  right  sort,  he  soon  wants  to  count  for  some- 
thing and  to  be  of  some  use  in  the  class  and  the 
college.  The  desire  to  be  of  service  is  probably  less 
moving  than  the  desire  to  make  a  name  for  himself; 
but  the  two  work  hand  in  hand  to  spur  him  on  to 
some  kind  of  extra  effort. 

Athletics,  of  course,  offer  the  great  opportunity. 
If  a  boy  has  any  skill  or  strength,  he  wants  to  make 
it  tell.  With  the  opening  of  the  college  year,  there 
is  set  in  motion  a  busy  and  inviting  panorama  of 

231 


THE   STORY   OF   HARVARD 

games  and  sports.  A  tennis  tournament  is  soon 
under  way;  the  fall  track  games  are  scheduled 
and  candidates  are  summoned  to  practice;  in  a  week 
or  two  the  football  players  are  arming  themselves 
with  their  head-pieces  and  nose-guards.  Any  one 
may  be  a  candidate  for  anything  —  and  if  a  fresh- 
man is  soon  "  fired  from  this  squad,"  he  can  at  least 
take  his  place  on  the  side-lines  with  the  consciousness 
of  having  made  a  m'anful  attempt,  of  having  tasted 
more  fully  the  spirit  of  college  life,  of  having  felt 
more  convincingly  than  before  the  strength  and 
heartiness  of  his  classmates.  To  be  stood  rudely  on 
his  head  by  Hiram  Higgs,  the  strapping  farmer  lad 
from  Oxbow  Corners,  may  be  a  profitable  experience 
for  Reginald  Richmond  of  Groton  and  Fifth  Avenue; 
and  if,  in  the  next  play,  Reginald  tramples  upon  the 
pride  of  Oxbow  Corners,  Hiram  also  may  be  bene- 
fited. One  of  the  virtues  of  freshmen  athletics 
is  that  in  the  enthusiastic  desire  of  all  who  are 
physically  fit  to  get  into  the  game,  a  good  deal 
of  social  prejudice  is  rubbed  off  and  a  new  basis 
of  judgment  is  formed. 

Of  course  there  is  not  much  likelihood  of  a  per- 
manent friendship  resulting  from  an  accidental 
brush  on  the  football  field;  if  a  boy's  prowess  is 
not  sufficient  to  carry  him  through  more  than  two 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

or  three  scrimmages,  he  is  likely  to  .leave  the  field 
richer  only  in  sentiment.  The  fellows  who  make  the 
team  are  the  ones  who  are  most  likely  to  develop 
lasting  ties  of  affection  from  their  athletic  experi- 
ences. For  them  the  problems  of  the*  freshman 
year  —  a  part  of  it,  at  any  rate  —  and  of  college 
life  are  simplified,  and  the  temptations  minimized. 
"  To  break  training  "  before  the  season  is  over  is 
so  heinous  an  offence  in  the  college  world  that  it 
practically  does  not  occur;  the  force  of  public 
opinion  will  keep  straight  the  athlete  of  the  most 
devious  propensities.  His  standing  in  his  clas'ses 
is  also  looked  after  with  great  care  by  the  coach  or 
by  some  other  authority;  the  possibility  of  the 
faculty's  laying  a  ban  on  him  at  the  last  moment 
on  account  of  neglect  of  studies  is  one  that  is  kept 
diligently  before  his  mind.  Consequently  all  in- 
fluences contribute  to  give  him  a  good  start,  to 
fix  in  him  habits  of  industry,  and  to  develop  in  him 
the  sense  of  responsibility  which  in  most  of  his  class- 
mates is  of  slower  growth. 

The  freshman  who  is  not  under  athletic  discipline 
and  whose  financial  circumstances  are  easy  is  likely 
to  enjoy  about  one  month  of  exhilarating  liberty, 
hilarity,  and  frivolity.  He  finds  that  he  is  under 
no  such  restrictions  as  existed  in  the  school  at  which 

233 


he  prepared  for  college.  He  cuts  a  recitation,  and 
nothing  is  said  about  it.  He  stays  up  —  and  out  — 
half  the  night,  and  nobody  seems  to  care.  He  smokes 
publicly  as  well  as  privately,  and  no  one  is  scandal- 
ized. In 'some  of  his  courses  he  does  not  have  to 
prepare  a  daily  lesson,  because  there  are  lectures 
instead  of  recitations.  He  goes  to  class  with  a  note- 
book in  which  he  jots  down  as  much  of  the  lecturer's 
remarks  as  he  deems  important.  These  notes, 
read  afterwards,  have  a  curious  meaninglessness, 
a  disconnected  and  unhinged  quality  which  gives 
him  a  rather  low  opinion  of  the  lecturer's  intelligence. 
A  man  who  is  so  vague  in  his  utterances  can  cer- 
tainly not  come  into  any  very  practical  relation  with 
one's  life;  probably  he  will  never  show  that  he  is 
aware  of  one's  existence.  It  is  a  comfortable  feeling. 
There  is  absolutely  nothing  to  interfere  with  the 
delightful  occupation  of  making  and  seeing  friends 
-  which  includes  seeing  "  shows,"  playing  pool 
and  billiards,  having  late  suppers  and  coming  home 
in  early  morning  taxicabs.  It  is  a  beautiful  world, 
in  which  there  are  no  penalties.  There  are  no  study 
hours  to  be  observed,  there  is  no  being  kept  in  after 
school  to  atone  for  failures. 

Then  one  morning  the  lecturer  in  European  His- 
tory, who  has  been  setting  forth  in  a  tiresome  fashion 

234 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

the  geographical  alterations  occasioned  by  the  per- 
formances of  Charlemagne,  concludes  by  remarking: 
"  Gentlemen,"  —  and  not  yet  has  the  freshman  quite 
adjusted  himself  to  the  pleasurable  shock  of  being 
addressed  collectively  as  "  Gentlemen  "  instead  of 
"  Boys  "  - "  Gentlemen,  there  will  be  an  hour 
examination  in  this  subject  one  week  from  to-day." 

The  freshman  who  has  been  having  a  glorious 
and  untrammeled  time  is  frightened.  When  he 
gets  to  his  room  and  begins  to  look  over  his  notes  and 
finds  how  little  they  convey  to  his  mind,  he  feels 
desperate.  However,  there  are  references  to  reading 
which  may  prove  illuminating.  He  visits  the  li- 
brary, and  finds  that  other  desperate  freshmen  have 
forestalled  him.  Every  book  which  has  been  pre- 
scribed is  now  in  some  one's  hands.  Most  of  them 
are  volumes  in  expensive  sets,  and  the  freshman 
who  is  ready  to  spend  money  quite  freely  on  dinners 
and  taxicabs  usually  balks  at  a  heavy  outlay  for 
books  of  a  scholastic  nature  which  are  not  ornamental 
in  their  bindings.  He  learns  that  there  is  another 
resource  open  to  him,  and  his  heart  soars  again. 

There  is  an  experienced  tutor  who  for  years  and 
years  has  made  a  practice  of  extricating  freshmen 
from  just  such  difficulties.  He  supplies  the  applicant 
with  a  volume  of  very  full  typewritten  or  printed 

235 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

notes  transcribed  from  the  instructor's  lectures. 
"  Learn  this  date  "  is  an  adjuration  found  frequently 
upon  the  pages;  and  "  Be  sure  to  bear  in  mind  this 
fact."  But  the  freshman  is  given  to  understand  that 
the  printed  notes  alone  are  too  precarious  a  guide; 
relying  on  them  and  nothing  else  he  can  hardly  hope 
to  pass.  The  day  before  the  examinations  the  tutor 
gives  a  "  seminar,"  which  lasts  from  two  to  three 
hours.  On  the  walls  of  his  room  are  blackboards  on 
which  he  has  drawn  various  maps.  He  stands  before 
his  class  of  students,  who  are  now  literally  thirsting 
for  information,  and  lectures  to  them,  slowly,  clearly, 
repeating  and  emphasizing  certain  points.  "  This 
question  has  been,  in  one  form  or  another,  on  seven 
out  of  the  last  ten  hour  examinations,"  he  will  say. 
"  Better  be  prepared  to  answer  it.  Alaric  and  the 
Goths  —  always  in  some  form  you  will  be  required 
to  deal  with  Alaric  and  the  Goths.  Here  are  a  few 
simple  facts  about  them."  And  so  on.  The  fresh- 
man comes  forth  from  his  three-hour  session  ex- 
hausted, but  with  a  number  of  subjects  on  which  he 
feels  able  to  write  a  concise  and  definite  paragraph. 
So  deftly  has  the  tutor  selected  these  subjects  that 
the  next  morning  the  freshman  is  gratified  to  see 
that  four  out  of  the  six  questions  have  been  pro- 
vided for. 

236 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

He  passes  the  examination  —  not  with  distinction 
but  by  a  safe  margin.  Similar  frantic  exertions 
secure  for  him  what  he  is  fond  of  terming  a  "  gen- 
tleman's mark  "  in  the  other  hour  examinations, 
which  are  now  in  quick  succession  launched  at  him. 
But  when  the  returns  are  all  in,  he  finds  that  two 
or  three  of  those  whom  he  had  come  to  regard  as 
"  perfectly  bully  "  fellows  are  no  more.  For  a  day 
or  two  he  bitterly  denounces  the  instructors  at 
whose  hands  they  met  their  fate;  then  his  sports 
and  his  friends  and,  to  an  increased  though  still 
limited  degree,  his  studies  —  for  he  has  profited 
a  little  by  his  experience  —  absorb  his  attention. 

To  the  boy  whose  family  are  making  sacrifices 
to  put  him  through  college  and  who  is  partly  de- 
pendent on  himself  for  the  funds  required,  the  fresh- 
man year  is  a  period,  not  of  care-free  sociability  and 
indolence,  but  of  anxiety  and  lonely  uncertainty. 
Whether  he  is  really  worth  a  college  education  or 
not  is  a  vital  question  to  him.  He  enters  into  com- 
petition with  other  boys  who  are  as  determined  as 
he  to  justify  the  endeavor  and  the  sacrifice.  The 
prizes  that  the  college  offers  in  the  way  of  scholar- 
ships are  always  less  in  number  than  the  com- 
petitors; the  possibilities  of  earning  money  in  his 
leisure  hours  do  not  make  themselves  known  very 

237 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

readily  to  the  freshman,  and  the  necessity  of  striving 
hard  for  a  scholarship  provides  him  with  few  leisure 
hours.  Yet  his  pride  in  his  class  is  as  strong  as 
that  of  one  who  is  more  free  to  indulge  in  the  pur- 
suits that  promote  such  sentiment;  and  when  the 
class  football  games  are  played,  the  "  grinds  "  are 
as  numerous  and  vociferous  on  the  side-lines  as 
those  who  have  habitually  been  spending  their  after- 
noons in  the  somewhat  languid  occupation  of  en- 
couraging the  team.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  game 
with  the  sophomores,  nobody  stays  away.  The 
enthusiasm  and  the  partisanship  are  as  violent  as 
when  the  varsity  eleven  contends  with  the  foreign 
and  hereditary  foe.  The  captain  or  the  manager 
of  the  team  appoints  certain  individuals  to  lead  the 
cheering;  with  backs  to  the  game  and  zeal  in  their 
eyes  and  exhortation  in  their  waving  arms,  they 
busy  themselves  deliriously.  Theirs  is  a  proud  posi- 
tion; many  a  freshman  in  the  obedient  cheering 
mass  wishes  that  he  were  equally  distinguished. 
When  the  game  is  over  and  the  sophomores  have 
been  defeated,  there  is  a  rush  for  the  victorious 
captain;  he  is  transported  from  the  field  upon  the 
shoulders  of  a  few  fortunate  ones,  while  all  round  him 
presses  the  acclaiming  multitude.  At  the  steps  of 
the  athletic  house  he  and  his  worthy  fellow  athletes 

238 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

are  detained,  and  one  after  another  is  elevated  to 
the  public  view  to  blush  and  be  cheered.  Lucky 
freshman!  Has  he  ever  tasted,  will  he  ever  taste 
again  a  sweeter  triumph? 

Excitement  is  not  yet  ready  to  be  quenched;  the 
celebration  must  be  prolonged.  The  ordinary  food 
and  drink  of  freshmen  are  not  for  such  an  occasion 
as  this;  it  calls  for  a  more  festive  board  than  that 
of  Memorial  Hall.  In  congenial  parties  they  dine 
that  evening  at  hotels  and  afterwards  attend  a 
musical  "  show  "  -  for  which  seats  have  been  re- 
served in  anticipation  of  victory  and  also  by  way 
of  consolation  for  possible  defeat.  The  theatre  is 
theirs  —  sometimes.  It  depends  on  the  manage- 
ment, the  actors,  and  most  of  all,  on  the  freshmen 
themselves.  If  they  behave  with  a  certain  amount 
of  decorum,  show  merely  a  somewhat  excessive 
enthusiasm,  and  are  not  too  importunate  in  their 
demands  for  encores,  they  will  probably  be  gratified 
by  the  appearance  of  the  leading  lady  waving  the 
colors  of  their  class  and  smiling  upon  them  be- 
witchingly.  What  a  class  it  is  that  this  lovely 
being  honors  it  thus!  After  the  show,  a  little 
supper  possibly,  a  Welsh  rabbit  and  a  bottle  of 
beer;  and  then  the  freshman,  never  before  so  re- 
plete and  complete,  takes  taxicab  or  trolley-car 

239 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

back  to  his  academic  home  and  tumbles  drowsily  to 
bed,  his  last  thought  being:  "  What  a  bully  day!  " 
There  has  been  a  good  deal  heard,  there  always 
is  a  good  deal  heard,  of  the  dissipated  life  of  fresh- 
men. If  a  boy's  home  training  has  been  of  a  sort 
to  make  it  easy  for  him  to  drift  into  dissipation,  and 
if  he  has  inherited  tendencies  of  that  nature,  he 
will  probably  be  as  dissipated  at  college  as  he  would 
be  elsewhere  —  not  more  so.  The  freshman  —  and 
in  this  he  resembles  his  elders  —  would  like  to  be 
a  "  good  fellow  "  and  to  be  known  as  such;  but  the 
standards  required  in  the  attainment  of  this  am- 
bition do  not  call  for  the  inordinate  consumption 
of  rum  and  cigarettes  or  for  the  pursuit  and  enter- 
tainment of  chorus  girls.  There  is  probably  more 
harmless  and  innocent  conviviality  in  any  under- 
graduate gathering  than  is  to  be  found  elsewhere 
outside  the  walls  of  a  well  conducted  Old  Ladies' 
Home.  For  a  time,  freshmen  are  exhilarated  by  the 
unaccustomed  sensation  of  liberty,  and  their  age 
and  spirits  tend  to  make  them  experimental;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  standards  which  are  maintained 
by  the  influence  of  home  training  and  association, 
of  college  advisers,  and  of  undergraduate  opinion, 
are  such  as  not  to  warrant  the  widespread  belief 
in  the  perils  of  a  college  career. 

240 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

And  as  the  year  goes  on,  the  freshman  acquires  a 
deeper  interest  in  matters  that  are  of  importance. 
He  begins  perhaps  to  feel  that  he  has  not  so  far  made 
the  most  of  his  opportunities,  that  he  has  given  too 
much  energy  to  seeking  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  that 
he  has  somewhat  disappointed  the  expectations  of 
those  whom  he  would  like  to  have  always  regard 
him  with  pride  as  well  as  with  affection.  He  feels 
perhaps  that  he  ought  to  be  preparing  himself  a 
little  more  earnestly  for  that  still  distant  future 
when  he  shall  be  turned  out  into  the  world  to  earn 
his  own  living  and  make  his  own  way.  Intercourse 
with  his  friends  and  with  his  teachers  has  supplied 
him  with  more  urgent  ambitions  and  ideals.  He 
dislikes  examinations  as  much  as  ever,  but  he  accepts 
the  necessity  of  studying  for  them  and  of  not  depend- 
ing on  a  tutor  at  the  last  moment.  He  finds  that 
what  is  winning  the  deepest  respect  among  his  class- 
mates is  character  —  yes,  even  more  than  good- 
fellowship.  He  learns  by  observation  and  experi- 
ence; and  by  the  time  the  end  of  the  year  approaches, 
his  smile  is  just  as  cheerful,  but  his  backbone  is  less 
pliant  than  when  he  entered  college. 

Of  course  it  is  not  often  that  the  boy  matures  into 
the  man  in  his  freshman  year.  In  no  respect  prob- 
ably does  he  show  his  immaturity  more  than  in  his 

241 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

desire  to  be  known  and  esteemed  by  prominent  per- 
sons of  his  own  or  of  other  classes.  He  is  pleased 
if  they  think  well  enough  of  him  to  call  him  by  his 
first  name.  Sometimes  it  goes  to  his  head  if  he  be- 
lieves that  they  are  considering  him  as  a  possible 
candidate  for  one  of  their  clubs.  It  is  not  strange 
that  with  a  knowledge  of  such  institutions  and  an 
acquaintance  with  their  members,  the  freshman 
spends  some  time  wondering  if  he  is  in  line  of  elec- 
tion. The  assiduous  cultivation  of  the  popular  and 
socially  successful  is  an  odious  trait;  the  freshman 
who  is  guilty  of  it  may  advance  himself  temporarily, 
but  an  undesirable  reputation  will  cling  to  him 
throughout  the  rest  of  his  college  career.  Some 
clubs  have  a  reprehensible  practise  of  pursuing  and 
endeavoring  to  pledge  freshmen  who  are  prominent 
and  promising,  even  though  election  cannot  take 
place  until  the  sophomore  year.  Not  many  fresh- 
men are  toadies,  but  the  great  majority  of  them 
are  not  indifferent  to  the  charms  of  social  prestige 
and  success.  And  in  certain  circles  the  discussion 
why  A  made  such  and  such  a  club  is  apt  to  be  more 
interesting  and  pithy  than  the  comments  on .  B's 
making  such  and  such  a  team.  Discussion  of  this 
sort  is  one  of  the  least  wholesome  of  undergraduate 
occupations. 

242 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

Fortunate  is  the  boy  who  by  the  end  of  his  fresh- 
man year  has  begun  to  find  himself  —  who  has  ac- 
quired a  sound  interest  in  some  subject  and  has 
provided  himself  with  a  definite  aim.  Most  men  are 
likely  to  look  back  on  their  freshman  year  with 
regret,  as  a  year  of  waste,  a  year  barren  of  results; 
but  often  it  has  been  the  year  in  which  some  happy 
influence  has  enabled  them  to  feel  and  follow  their 
own  best  qualifications  and  powers,  and  so  to  dedi- 
cate themselves  to  a  life  of  usefulness. 

Let  us  glance  at  one  of  our  freshmen  four  years 
later,  when  he  is  leaving  Harvard.  He  has  finished 
his  last  examination,  and  he  has  a  few  days  with 
nothing  to  do  except  loaf  and  make  half-hearted 
preparations  for  departure.  He  feels  wistful  and 
eager,  —  clinging  to  the  passing  minute,  yet  rest- 
less while  it  passes.  He  looks  with  particular  wist- 
fulness  at  those  friends  of  his  who  are  returning  to 
the  Law  School,  or  whose  occupation  will  keep  them 
in  Boston;  he  is  going  out  to  Seattle,  where  his  father, 
who  has  been  profitably  developing  real  estate, 
proposes  to  enlist  his  son's  abilities  towards  the 
further  improvement  and  building  up  of  that  me- 
tropolis. And  because  his  destination  is  so  romanti- 
cally distant  and  his  destiny  so  bright,  the  Easterners 
whose  lot  excites  his  wistfulness  look  on  him  with 

243 


THE   STORY  OF   HARVARD 

envious  eyes.  He  feels  that  they  will  go  on  indefi- 
nitely enjoying  the  sweets  of  college  life,  —  seeing 
their  friends,  dining  with  one  another,  going  to  Yale 
games,  —  but  he  —  he  may  get  back  to  it  all,  if 
he's  lucky,  for  a  few  days  about  once  every  five 
years.  And  they  think  that  he  is  the  fellow  who  is 
going  to  have  adventures. 

He  has  not  distinguished  himself  in  college, 
either  in  athletics  or  in  scholarship;  he  has  been  one 
of  the  "  average  "  men.  Every  year  he  has  tried 
for  his  class  eleven  in  the  autumn  and  for  his  class 
nine  in  the  spring  —  never  with  success.  He  has 
spent  a  fair  amount  of  time  on  his  books  and  so  has 
escaped  difficulties  with  the  "  office,"  but  his  marks 
have  not  been  high.  He  has  some  very  warm  friends 
and  a  number  of  pleasant  acquaintances,  for  he  has 
always  been  a  cheerful,  honest,  laughing  soul.  It 
annoys  him  in  these  days,  when  he  is  with  some  of 
his  Boston  classmates  and  hears  them  talking  about 
their  plans,  to  feel  that  there  is  a  choke  in  his  throat. 

The  last  Sunday  comes,  and  in  the  afternoon,  in 
his  cap  and  gown,  he  takes  his  place  in  the  procession 
that  files  into  Appleton  Chapel  to  hear  the  Bacca- 
laureate Sermon.  He  has  been  in  Appleton  Chapel 
only  five  times  before;  once  to  morning  prayers, 
to  see  what  they  were  like,  once  to  the  funeral  of  an 

244 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

old  professor  under  whom  he  had  sat  and  whose 
death  had  moved  him  strangely,  once  on  a  Sunday 
evening  to  hear  a  celebrated  preacher,  and  on  two 
occasions  to  morning  prayers  because  of  a  vague 
feeling  that  the  atmosphere  might  do  him  good.  On 
this  .Sunday  afternoon  the  clergyman  preaches  from 
the  text  — "  Go  not  forth  hastily  to  strive,  lest 
thou  know  not  what  to  do  in  the  end  thereof;  " 
the  senior  means  to  listen  attentively,  but  his 
thoughts  wander  with  his  eyes  from  face  to  face. 
And  when  he  is  outside  the  walls  of  the  chapel,  it 
comes  over  him  with  rather  a  pang  that  he  has  got 
nothing  whatever  from  his  one  and  only  Bacca- 
laureate Sermon. 

Tuesday  is  Class  Day.  After  breakfast  he  goes 
in  to  Boston  to  the  Copley-Plaza,  where  his  father 
and  mother  and  sister  are  stopping.  He  thanks 
heaven  that  his  sister  is  really  not  bad-looking.  He 
takes  the  family  out  to  Cambridge  in  a  taxicab, 
shows  them  round  the  Yard,  and  has  two  or  three 
fellows  at  his  rooms  to  meet  them.  Then  he  sends 
the  family  over  to  Sanders  Theatre,  and  putting 
on  cap  and  gown,  he  falls  into  line  behind  the  band. 
At  Sanders  Theatre  the  seniors  occupy  the  orchestra 
and  first  balcony;  the  upper  balcony  is  filled  with 
their  friends  and  relatives;  innumerable  are  the 

245 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVARD 

ladies.  Jones,  the  orator,  proves  equal  to  the  oc- 
casion; his  speech  wins  great  applause;  yes,  the 
good  old  class  did  itself  proud  in  choosing  Jones 
to  represent  it.  And  no  wonder  that  Jones  is  going 
to  study  law.  Now  for  Robinson,  a  literary  type  of 
grind,  who  has  been  moistening  his  lips  in  a  harassed 
manner  during  Jones's  peroration.  Our  senior 
fears  that  Robinson  may  break  down,  is  immensely 
relieved  when  he  doesn't,  and  claps  long  and  lustily 
when  he  has  finished.  Smith's  ode  is  effectively 
sung  to  the  air  of  "  Fair  Harvard  "  -  to  which  the 
ode  is  always  written. 

Then  the  senior  rejoins  his  family  and  pilots 
them  to  one  of  the  big  mid-day  spreads;  they  stand 
up  in  a  great  jam  and  eat  lobster  Newburg  and  cold 
salmon,  strawberries  and  ice-cream;  he  introduces 
as  many  fellows  as  he  can  to  his  sister,  so  that  she 
may  not  hang  heavy  on  his  hands  at  Beck  during 
the  dancing  in  the  evening.  His  family  go  back  to 
the  Copley-Plaza  —  his  mother  is  tired  arid  wants  to 
rest,  and  his  sister  wants  to  put  on  another  dress  for 
the  evening  —  and  he  drops  in  at  his  club,  where  there 
is  a  thirsty  gathering,  a  large  bowl  of  punch,  and 
some  one  playing  the  piano.  Presently  he  goes  to 
join  his  class,  assembling  in  the  Yard;  they  march 
down  to  Soldier's  Field  at  the  end  of  the  long  line  of 

246 


J2 
O 

5 

Tj 

5! 


FRESHMAN  AND   SENIOR 

alumni,  who  form  according  to  classes;  the  specta- 
tors are  all  assembled  in  the  bowl  of  the  Stadium;  the 
seniors  in  their  black  gowns  and  mortarboards  group 
themselves  in  the  center  of  the  great  semicircle  and 
seat  themselves  on  the  grass;  the  marshal  calls 
Brown,  the  Ivy  Orator,  to  the  platform.  Brown's 
first  sentence  brings  a  quick  response  of  laughter;  ap- 
plause ripples  up  over  the  Stadium  seats  and  sweeps 
across  the  crowd.  From  that  moment  it  is  all  easy 
for  Brown;  he  delivers  his  inconsequent  humorous 
remarks  to  an  audience  which,  as  one  of  the  news- 
papers the  next  day  will  observe,  "  punctuates  them 
with  salvos  of  merriment."  Brown's  success  is 
particularly  pleasing  to  our  senior,  who  belongs  to  the 
same  club  and  regards  him  as  the  cleverest  man  in 
college.  But  his  greatest  admiration  is  not  for  Brown, 
but  for  the  first  marshal,  who,  after  the  Ivy  Orator 
has  concluded,  calls  for  the  cheers  —  for  the  presi- 
dent, for  certain  professors,  for  the  class;  the  first 
marshal  is  a  fellow  who  has  greater  qualities  than 
wit,  humor,  cleverness;  he  is  the  man  of  character 
and  personality,  the  object  of  more  hero-worship 
than  anybody  else  in  the  class.  "  How  I  wish  that 
I  had  his  future!  "  thinks  our  senior  —  and  perhaps 
a  dozen  others  have  the  same  thought,  submissive 
to  that  flaming  leadership.  Yet  they  none  of  them 

247 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

know  what  that  future  is  to  be.  Youth  is  humble 
before  its  heroes. 

An  old  graduate  springs  up  and  leads  the  loudest 
and  wildest  of  all  the  cheers,  and  then  suddenly 
the  air  is  filled  with  flying  streamers,  bright-colored, 
shining  in  the  sunlight,  weaving  back  and  forth  be- 
tween the  throng  on  the  ground  and  the  throng  in 
the  seats  above.  Confetti  unroll  their  gleaming 
ribbons  in  graceful  arcs,  bombs  stuffed  with  bright 
tissue  paper  scraps  burst  on  ladies'  hats  or  shower 
their  contents  from  aloft,  there  is  screaming  and 
laughter  and  a  frenzied,  harmless  battle.  During 
it  the  seniors  march  out,  passing  close  under  the 
tiers  of  seats  and  exchanging  missiles  with  the  nearest 
spectators. 

Our  senior  secures  his  family  and  escorts  them  to 
the  Beck  spread;  there  tables  are  placed  on  the 
lawn;  people  seat  themselves  and  eat  more  lobster 
Newburg  and  cold  salmon,  strawberries  and  ice- 
cream; Chinese  lanterns  are  strung  above;  a 
band  plays  in  the  pavilion,  and  a  great  crowd  tries 
to  dance  on  a  very  rough  floor.  The  sister  changes 
partners  with  gratifying  frequency,  but  at  last  gets 
into  the  doldrums,  or  so  her  brother  anxiously 
fancies;  he  rescues  her  and  they  stroll  over  to  the 
Yard.  There  they  find  another  illumination  from 

248 


FRESHMAN   AND   SENIOR 

Chinese  lanterns,  only  more  extensive,  with  great 
numbers  of  people  sitting  and  standing  and  walking 
about,  while  in  front  of  University  a  band  plays  and 
an  electric  fountain  leaps  and  splashes.  The  Glee 
Club  sings  on  the  steps  of  Sever.  Late  in  the  evening 
the  tired  family  return  to  Boston,  but  our  senior, 
who  is  proud  of  his  reputation  as  a  night-owl,  repairs 
again  to  his  club;  the  punch-bowl  has  been  refilled 
and  some  good  fellows  are  sitting  round  it  agreeing 
that  Class  Day  is  a  great  day  for  the  girls  but  a 
devil  of  a  bore  for  a  man. 

The  next  morning  our  senior  is  busy  dismantling 
his  room,  packing  away  his  things.  In  the  afternoon 
he  marches  with  his  class  again  to  Soldier's  Field, 
this  time  to  the  Harvard- Yale  baseball  game,  which 
he  views  from  the  "  cheering  section." 

There  is  a  big  dinner  at  the  club  that  night  where 
old  graduates  shake  him  by  the  hand  and  wish 
him  well,  and  he  and  his  friends  drink  to  one  another's 
success.  And  afterwards  he  visits  different  fellows 
in  their  rooms,  sits  on  their  window-seats  in  the  cool 
night  air,  and  shares  their  silences.  Some  of  them 
give  him  their  photographs,  and  ask  him  for  his, 
and  that  touches  and  pleases  him.  It  is  late  when 
he  gets  back  to  his  own  room;  the  bared  walls  and 
the  swathed  furniture  and  the  half-filled  trunks 

249 


THE   STORY  OF  HARVARD 

enforce  upon  him  the  imminence  of  his  departure. 
Poignantly  he  realizes  that  this  is  the  last  night  he 
will  ever  pass  in  these  rooms,  that  an  important 
chapter  in  his  life  is  closed.  And  he  looks  back  and 
thinks  how  little  he  has  made  of  his  splendid  oppor- 
tunity, and  wishes  with  a  sincere  and  humble  heart 
that  he  might  have  those  four  years  over  again. 

He  wakes  to  the  morning  of  Commencement. 
On  his  way  through  the  yard  to  join  the  academic 
procession,  he  walks  slowly,  trying  to  fix  the  appear- 
ance of  everything  in  mind,  the  gray  squirrel  frisk- 
ing on  the  trampled  grass,  the  sadly  lopped  elms, 
the  young  saplings  which  may  have  grown  beyond 
his  recognition  when  he  next  revisits  Cambridge. 
Fellows  are  trying  to  be  gay  and  cheerful,  but  every- 
where there  is  an  undertone  of  melancholy. 

The  black-gowned  procession  starts  for  Sanders 
Theatre.  Two  hours  later  the  senior  comes  forth, 
a  senior  no  longer,  a  graduate,  a  Bachelor  of  Arts, 
carrying  his  roll  of  parchment  tied  with  crimson 
ribbon.  He  has  heard  the  Latin  Valedictory  and 
the  Commencement  oratory,  he  has  witnessed  the 
conferring  of  the  honorary  degrees,  and  he  has  joined 
in  the  applause  for  each  distinguished  guest  who 
has  risen  and  stood  during  the  president's  measured 
words  of  tribute.  The  young  Bachelor  of  Arts,  start- 

250 


FRESHMAN   AND   SENIOR 

ing  out  to  make  for  himself  a  career  of  service  and 
achievement,  knows  that  he  will  never  receive  such 
a  distinction  at  his  Alma  Mater's  hands,  but  hopes 
with  a  sober  heart  that  his  future  may  be  at  least 
more  worthy  of  her  than  his  past. 


THE    END. 


251 


INDEX 


A.  D.  Club,  216,  218 
Abbott,  Edward  Gardner,  189 
Abbott,  Henry  Livermore,  189 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  105 
Adams,  Samuel,  76,  79 
Advocate,  The  Harvard,  211 
Agassiz,  Alexander,  219 
Allen,  Thomas,  n 
Allston,  Washington,  100,  101 
Andrew,  John  A.,  164,  191 
Andros,  Edward,  36 
Angier,  Charles,  99 
Ap thorp  House,  87 

Barber,  Jonathan,  134,  135 
Barnard,  Tobias,  23 
Bartlett,  William  Francis,  196 
Bellingham,  Samuel,  23 
Bernard,  Francis,  77,  79 
Bowditch,  Nathaniel,  122 
Bowdoin,  James,  96 
Boylston  Hall,  i 
Brewster,  Nathaniel,  23 
Briscoe,  Nathaniel,  17,  18 
Brown,  Charles  Brooks,  184-187 
Bulkley,  John,  23,  28 
Burgoyne,  John,  85,  86,  87 

Channing,    William    Ellery,    100, 

101,  102,  103,  104 
Chauncy,  Charles,  10,  29-33 


Child,  Francis  James,  200 
Choate,  Joseph  H.,  153 
Class  Day,  143,  226,  245 
Colman,  Benjamin,  50,  51,  54 
Commemoration  Day,  195 
Commencement,  27,  47,  48,  55,  60, 

77,  78,  87,  103,  141,  142,  250 
Commons,  68,  69,  70,  75,  76,  118, 

119,   138,  139,   203 
Creighton,  Mandell,  207 
Crimson,  The  Harvard,  211,  212 
Crowninshield,  Caspar,  151 

Dalton,  Edward  Barry,  226 

Dane  Hall,  128 

"  Dickey,"  The,  214,  215 

Divinity  Hall,  no,  148 

Downing,  George,  23,  24,  25,  28 

Dudley,  Joseph,  36,  47 

Dudley,  Paul,  47 

Dudley,  Thomas,  14 

Dunbar,  Charles  Franklin,  200 

Dunster,  Henry,  10,  10-22,  29,  30 

Dwight,  Wilder,  169-173 

Eaton,  Nathaniel,  17-19 

Eliot,  Andrew,  80 

Eliot,  Charles  William,  197,  199, 

200,  201,  202,  209,  219 
Elletson,  John,  10 
Emerson,  R.  W.,  115,  226 


253 


INDEX 


Everett,  Edward,  no,  127,  146, 
153-156,  159,  l64,  210 

Felton,  Cornelius  C.,  159,  164 

Oilman,  Samuel,  145,  210 
Goodwin,  William  Watson,  200 
Gore,  Christopher,  4 
Gore  Hall,  4 
Grays  Hall,  i,  16 
Greenwood,  Isaac,  58,  59 

Hancock,  John,  79,  81,  89-94,  98 
Harvard,  John,  10,  15,  16,  65,  204, 

207 

Harvard,  Robert,  10 
Harvard  Crimson,  The,  211,  212 
Harvard  Hall,  First,  32,  62-65 
Harvard  Hall,  Second,  66,  83,  145 
Harvard  Magazine,  The,  210 
Harvard  Union,  The,  217 
Harvard  Washington  Corps,  109, 

204 

Harvardiana,  210 
Hasty  Pudding   Club,    102,    213, 

215 

Higginson,  Henry  L.,  182,  217 
Hill,  Adams  Sherman,  200 
Hill,  Thomas,  159,  161 
Hoar,  Leonard,  33-35 
Holden  Chapel,  62,  78,  98 
Hollis,  Thomas,  49-53,  59,  65,  80 
Hollis  Hall,  2,  62,  66,  67,  99,  no, 

122 

Holmes,  John,  99,  123 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  127,  210 
Holmes  Field,  6,  7,  205 
Holworthy,  Sir  Matthew,  106 


Holworthy  Hall,   2,  6,   105,   106, 

i°9,  !33,  l64,  2l6 
Holyoke,  Edward,  58,  62,  71,  77, 

94 

Hubbard,  William,  23 
Hughes,  Thomas,  194 
Hutchinson,  Thomas,  79,  81 

Indian  College,  The,  31 

Jackson,  Andrew,  131 
James,  William,  200 
Jarvis  Field,  7 

Kirkland,    John   Thornton,    107- 

no,  116,  125,  127,  128 
Kossuth,  Louis,  158 

Lafayette,  Marquis  de,  127 
Lampoon,  The  Harvard,  211,  212 
Lane,  George  Martin,  200 
Langdon,  Samuel,  82,  87-90 
Law  School,  no,  200,  201 
Leverett,  John,  45~49>  S1,  94 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  164,  184 
Locke,  Samuel,  78,  82 
Lowell,  A.  Lawrence,  4,  161,  202 
Lowell,  Charles  Russell,  173-184, 

226 

Lowell,  James  Jackson,  177,  226 
Lowell,  James  Russell,    107-109, 

132,  135,  143,  iS9,  l63,  164,  205, 

2O7,    2IO 

Lowell,  John,  96 
Lyceum,  The,  210 

Magenta,  The,    211 
Marti-Mercurian  Band,  The,  78, 
109 


254 


INDEX 


Massachusetts  Hall,  46,  62,   64, 

66,  94,  95,  no,  145 
Mather,  Cotton,   n,  20,  35,  38, 

4<>-45,  53,  54 

Mather,  Increase,  36,  38-44 
Mather,  Samuel,  28 
Med.  Fac.  Society,  122,  123 
Medical  School,  200 
Memorial  Hall,  203,  207,  239 
Mitchell,  Jonathan,  28 
Monthly,  The  Harvard,  211 
Motley,  John  Lothrop,  121,  164 

Newell  Boat  Club,  221 
Norton,  Charles  Eliot,  200,  207 

Oakes,  Urian,  35 

Otis,  Harrison  Gray,  122 

Otis,  James,  79 

Pa'rkman,  Francis,  147,  149,  164 
Peabody,   Andrew  P.,    128,    131, 

133,  136,  154,  156 
Peabody,  Everett,  166,  167,  168 
Peirce,  Benjamin,  49,  68,  69 
Pepys,  Samuel,  23,  24 
Perkins,  Stephen  George,  190,  226 
Phi  Beta  Kappa,  98,  125,  155 
Phillips,  Wendell,  163 
Phips,  Sir  William,  37 
Pierce,  John,  142 
Popkin,  John  Snelling,  132-134 
Porcellian  Club,  102,  215 
Prescott,  William  Hickling,   108, 

"3,  "5 
Prince,  Nathan,  59 


Quincy,  Josiah,  116,  119,  128-131, 
142, 145, 147, 153,  206 


Rebellion,  The  Great,  129 

Register,  The,  210 

Rogers,  John,  35 

Russel,  Cabot  Jackson,  192,  195 

Saddler,  Rupert,  172,  173 

Salisbury,  Stephen,  117 

Saltonstall,  Henry,  23 

Sanders  Theatre,  203,  204,  245 

Sargeant,  Thomas,- 34 

Savage,  James,  226 

Sever  Hall,  3 

Sewall,  Joseph,  53,  54 

Sewall,  Samuel,  34 

Shaler,    Nathaniel   Southgate,   4, 

200 
Shaw,   Robert   Gould,    150,    178, 

189-194,  226 

Soldier's  Field,  217,  246,  249 
Sparks,  Jared,  157-159,  164 
Stadium,  The,  224,  225,  247 
Stiles,  Ezra,  n 
Storer,  Ebenezer,  92,  93,  96 
Story,  Joseph,  74,  100-102 
Stoughton  Hall,  First,  43,  46,  64, 

66 
Stoughton  Hall,  Second,  67,  105, 

no 

Stoughton,  William,  38,  42,  43 
Sumner,  Charles,  125,  164 

Thayer,  F.  W.,  223 

Ticknor,  George,  112,  113,  144 

University  Hall,  no,  141,  145 


Varsity  Club,  217,  218 
Vincent,  Strong,  187-189 


255 


INDEX 


Wadsworth,  Benjamin,  54,  55,  58, 

94 

Wadsworth  House,  55 
Ward,  James,  29 
Ware,  Henry,  107 
Washington,  George,  83,  84,  99, 

154,  iSS 

Webber,  Samuel,  105,  107 
Webster,  Daniel,  146 
Weld,  Joseph,  29 
Weld  Boat  Club,  221 


Whitefield,  George,  57 
Whitney,  George,  126,  127 
Willard,  Joseph,  95,  104,  105 
Willard,  Samuel,  44 
Willard,  Sidney,  104 
Wilson,  John,  18,  23 
Winthrop,  John,  14,  20,  29 
Woodbridge,  Benjamin,  22 

Yale  College,  n,  45,  158,  218-224 
Yearwood,  Richard,  n 


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